Repercussions
by Route67
Summary: Clark awakes in a world where everything has changed. The world knows his secret and Lex has turned his life into a project. So sure this is a Phantom at work again, Clark’s mind is sent into chaos when he discovers it may be real.
1. One

**Title: **Repercussions

**Rating: **T/PG-13 (for violence, peril and character angst/drama)

**Summery: **Clark awakes in a world where everything has changed. The world knows his secret and Lex has turned his life into a project. So sure this is a Phantom at work again, Clark's mind is sent into chaos when he discovers it may be real.

**Time-Frame: **Season 6: After "Labyrinth"

**Pairings: **This story doesn't lean towards a certain ship, really. There are aspects of several ships, and I mostly tried to stay close to cannon.

**Disclaimer: **Of course, I do not own any of the characters/places/names in Smallville. Dang there went my plan for independent wealth.

**Feedback: **I love receiving feedback! From "nice fic more soon yo" to "Astounding performance, thou intrepid authoress!" and all that comes in between. ;) Thanks in advance!

* * *

He heard the front door of the Talon shut and scrambled to his feet, sending his chair clattering loudly to the tile floor. "Lana."

Lana was standing uncertainly in the doorway, her fingers scrambling in front of her with nervous tension. "I wasn't sure I should come."

"You said you needed to talk," he reminded her. "So what's wrong?"

"Not here. Can…is Lois home?"

"Her and Oliver are catching a movie tonight. You…want to go upstairs?" She nodded.

They climbed the steps to the upper apartment in silence, and Lana slipped past Clark inside. He stood ofr a moment by the door, looking around for…someone, then followed her. The moment the door shut, Lana ran for him, crashing into his chest with her whole body. He stumbled back a step. "Lana!"

"Clark…!" she cried, clinging to the sleeves of his shirt and he hurried to hold her, utterly confused.

"Lana what-"

"I'm so scared, I don't…I don't know what's going on or how I got here or…"

"Shh…" Clark insisted quietly, rubbing her shoulders. "What are you so afraid of?"

"I don't know," she told him, her breath trembling. "I don't it's- it's like I'm sinking down a black hole and I don't know how I got here." She leaned away from him suddenly, eyes bright with tears. "Clark you have to help, you- you've got to get me away-"

The door flew open suddenly, flooding the room with gray light. Lana's hair whipped into her face and she screamed as a dark figure appeared before them. Clark stood in front of her, facing the stranger. "Stay away!"

The silhouette paused, and then stepped into the dull light, turning suddenly into a person, dressed in a sharp, black suit. He was holding a bouquet of dried roses in his right hand and stretching out the empty left towards Lana. "Come on," he said quietly, "it's time to go."

"She's not going anywhere with you, Lex," Clark spat at him, taking a menacing step forward, but Lex just laughed good-naturedly.

"C'mon Lana," he repeated with a smile, his fingers twitching back in a beckon. "Clark's a bit stressed right now, let's leave him be."

Clark felt something like a warm breeze brush his shoulder and he turned to see Lana stepping out from behind him, walking as though hypnotized towards Lex. Tears were still slipping down her cheeks. "Lana don't-" he began, putting out an arm to stop her, and Lana jumped at his voice and ran for Lex like a frightened kitten. Lex collected her into his arms.

"It's okay," he said soothingly. "Let's go home."

"Lana-"

"She can't hear you Clark," Lex told him, the joviality replaced with an arctic stare. "She doesn't want to anymore."

"Yes she can!"

Lex ignored him and steered Lana towards the door. "See you around, Clark. Lana honey, don't you want to say goodbye?" Lana, who still clung shakily onto Lex's silk shirtfront, vigorously shook her head and allowed herself to be led out the apartment door.

Clark ran through the bright, gray light and to the top of the stairs, but somehow Lex and Lana were already crossing the Talon, headed for the front door. "Lana this is the black hole! He's pulling you in, you have to let go of him!"

Lana's knees buckled as they reached the door and Lex calmly gathered her up in his arms, carrying her the rest of the way. As he did so, she looked wearily over his shoulder at Clark. "You can't save me anymore," she whispered.

"Lana-"

"No, Clark…no."

"LANA!"

Clark sat up, eyes stinging with either sweat or tears. He ran a shaky hand across his forehead, blinking hard. He felt cold. Down the hall, a light came on, and he threw himself back onto his bed, shutting his eyes and trying to steady his breath. A few moments later, he heard Martha come to his door.

"Clark?" she whispered into the silence. "Sweetheart, you awake?"

Clark kept as still as he could, though his arms insisted on trembling. Martha walked into the room and stood over him for a few moments, which felt like a half-hour. Finally she bent down, kissed him gently on the head and he soon heard her footsteps disappearing down the hall once more.

Clark's eyes sprang open and he stared at his back wall, mind still reeling from the vivid nightmare. The last thing his mom needed after everything that had happened lately was to worry about him. Martha seldom required such protection, but Clark was too old for her to be his shoulder all the time. It was his turn now.

Pushing sweaty hair off his forehead, Clark clambered out of bed and went quietly downstairs to the kitchen. The silence rang deafeningly around him, broken only when he decided to open the fridge and get a glass of orange juice. Sitting at the dining room table, cold glass between his warm palms, he could not help wondering if the dreams were ever going to go away. After Jonathan died, he had had a reoccurring dream that distressed him as well, but it had eventually subsided. These newest nightmares refused to let go, filling his nights with pain, darkness and Lana's tears. All he could see when he fell asleep, it seemed, were her great, terrified eyes and the looming figure of Lex Luthor coming to drag her away.

Part of him wanted to believe what he saw. He wanted badly to think that Lana was miserable, longing for him alone. That Lex had somehow tricked her into loving him and that, despite what she said, she desired to be saved from the marriage. However, he supposed that was not only bigheaded of him but somewhat insulting to Lana. Yes, she'd been hurt, but he would like to think she was too smart to be conned into matrimony.

He took a drink of orange juice and noticed that the sun was beginning to tiptoe over the trees, pouring rosy light down on the cow fields. He smiled tiredly to himself. Almost dawn. But it was a Saturday, and he probably wouldn't see anyone until at least eight. Suddenly he felt very closed-off and lonely. Was his life always going to feel like this; sequestered from the 'normal world'? It just wasn't…fair. He could already hear his father's advice on that one.

"_Life's never really fair, Clark. But you can't let that get in the way of doing what you know beyond a doubt is right."_

Exactly a year ago today, Jonathan Kent had a heart attack and died in his family's arms. Since then, Clark had been carrying on without him, as life got steadily more and more difficult.

He took another long drink of orange juice, trying to wake himself up. The dream was playing with his mind. Lana was playing with his mind. She had often blamed him of doing the same, and perhaps he had, but someday he'd really like to tell her that such bewilderment was mutual between them.

The bottom line was, it was the anniversary of his father's death and it just seemed to bring to mind how rough his life had become. He needed a break, a light at the end of this tunnel. He needed…relief.

Suddenly "U Can't Touch This" started playing, causing him to jump. He grabbed his jacket from the chair beside him, digging around in the pockets until he found his cell phone. Clark flipped it open without checking the name. "Hello?"

- - - - -

His eyes slid opened very, very slowly. A white light shone down on his face and its beams seemed to pierce straight through his retinas to the back of his head. He blinked, trying to free himself of the pain, but it stuck like Velcro to the edges of his awareness.

"Clark?"

He stirred, trying to roll onto his side, but couldn't seem to work up the energy. Why was he so exhausted? His wrists felt as though someone had tied them down, but he felt no rope or chain rubbing against his skin.

"C'mon Clark. Waky-waky, it's breakfast time."

The sound of metal scraping against metal resonated off the walls. He sat groggily up, head still throbbing, and squinted at the man who approached him. He wore a gray jumpsuit and was carrying a tray of food (oatmeal, orange juice and a small Dixie cup that appeared to be empty). He set the tray down, but Clark ignored it, his eyes searching the room around him. Four dark walls surrounded the clean-looking cot he was sitting on, and over his head stretched several rows of florescent light rods set in the ceiling behind steel grates. It looked like a closet that had been converted into an interrogation room.

He took a deep breath, still trying to collect his thoughts. "Where uh…what happened?"

The man in the gray jumpsuit looked up from the tray he was setting down on the cot. "It's okay man, you're always out of it early in the morning."

"What time is it?"

"About seven AM. Here." He held out the glass of orange juice, which Clark took, but did not drink.

"Where am I?"

The man looked uneasy. "Are uh…you regressing again?" Clark just stared back, puzzled. "What's the last thing you remember?"

Clark struggled with his aching mind, searching for his last memory. "I was stuck in- no. No, I was sitting in the kitchen with a glass of orange juice." He fingered the cup in his hand. "Yeah. And my phone rang." His eyes darted upward. "Did- did something happen, am I in the hospital?" He glanced around and realized if this was a hospital, it was the strangest one he'd ever seen and certainly wasn't Smallville Medical Center. Moreover, he wasn't in a robe but rather a white, tunic-like ensemble. It reminded him of the clothes he and Pete had worn during their brief flirtation with karate in third grade.

"In the kitchen." The man repeated. "Like…at your home?"

"Yeah." Now confusion appeared on the man's face and Clark added, "Look- where's my mom? She might have a better idea-"

"Okay, you know what?" He stood up, suddenly flustered. "How about we just finish breakfast, we'll get a scan done downstairs later, okay? Fix ya right up."

"But why can't I-"

"Here you go," the man interrupted, handing him the Dixie cup. Clark glanced in it and saw that it wasn't empty, but had three brightly colored pills inside.

"What're these for?"

"Just take them, Clark." Clark stared blankly at him for a moment, and then set the pills resolutely back onto the tray. "Clark," he said condescendingly, stooping down as though addressing a child. "I have to make sure you take these."

"No way," Clark snapped, setting the orange juice down as well. "I'm not swallowing anything till you tell me what's going on."

"Just take the pills, please."

Clark watched him carefully through suspicious eyes. With a surge of panic, something occurred to him. "Dr. Hudson. Where's Dr. Hudson?"

"Doctor who?"

Clark nodded as though catching on. "He's back. I thought that man, the one with the red eyes, had gotten rid of him. But he came back somehow, didn't he?"

The man looked alarmed. "Clark-"

"What does he want me to do this time, huh? Believe I've lost my mind again, maybe let you force those pills down my throat?"

"Clark you need to calm down, please."

Clark stood up, sending the tray crashing to the floor. Instantly, the room began to tilt around him. He groped the air for stability, but his head continued to spin. Then he realized his fingers felt oddly heavy and his wrists ached. He looked down at his hands and saw thin, silver bracelets decorating each wrist. Pressed into both of them were three, minuscule green gems, sparkling brightly the moment his eyes fell on them. Kryptonite.

"What's going on…" Clark shook his head, fear rising like a tide in his chest. He tried to pry the bracelets off but they were stronger than he was, and he whirled on the man instead, grabbing him by the shirtfront. "Where am I?! What do you want?!"

The man shook in his grasp like a wet fish but had the presence of mind to reach for the radio on his shoulder. "This is Trently! Clark's having a fit, send rein-"

Without thinking, Clark threw him as hard as he could against the wall. Trently struck the wall hard enough to dent it and fell to the floor, unconscious. Clark ran to him, rummaging over his belt and found a card-key, which he then slid through the slot in the door, wrenching it open. He found himself in a long, dimly lit hallway with cream walls and gray carpet. He tried to focus each direction, but his x-ray vision would not cooperate, so he picked the left at random.

His breath pounded in his ears with the effort of running at normal speed. The bracelets seemed to be hampering some of his abilities and completely neutralizing others. He spun around two corners, down two hallways, then to went to the left and down yet another hallway. At last he saw a door up ahead, but to his horror, reached it only to discover he'd come full circle. He stopped in the doorway of his cell, saw Trently was still out cold, and tried to calm down a little. After letting the silence scream in his ears for several long minutes, he took off running once more.

This time he took a right on the third hallway, bare feet pounding eerily off the carpeted floor. "Where are you going, Clark…" he whispered to himself as he darted down a new set of identical hallways.

Five minutes later, however, the cell door loomed up ahead once more, and this time there were four men in uniform standing in the doorway. Clark spun around to go the other direction and found two men running up behind him. How had he not heard them?

He came to a stop, facing the strangers. "Where am I? Where's Dr. Hudson?" When it was clear they had no intention of slowing down and answering him, Clark's survival instinct kicked in and he ran at them. He knocked the two men behind him down, turned and ran at the other four. The fight didn't last long. He had one of them by the shoulders, about to hurl him down the carpeted hallway, when he felt himself suddenly weakening. His limbs shook violently, the ceiling and floor warped in his vision. He knew this burning, nauseating sensation well. "No…no wait-!" Unbidden, his legs gave way and he crumpled to the floor.

"Easy Clark."

"No- no…"

Gentle hands rolled him onto his back and he found himself looking up at one of the uniformed men, whose glove-covered hand was brandishing a glowing green rock. "Calm down, Clark," he said soothingly. "It's alright. You're going to be fine."

"Please just let…let me go…" Clark whispered feebly as the crowd of strangers swarmed around him, strapping his wrists and ankles together, but the man above him wasn't really listening.

"Don't worry about it, Clark," he said distractedly, watching his people work. "Yeah- bring down one of the stretchers, we'll carry him up to Lab 6."

He set the lump of Kryptonite onto Clark's chest and went to talk to someone. A few minutes past, Clark's body began to convulse and then finally, he blacked out.

- - - - -


	2. Two

- - - - -

"Try it again."

"One…two…three." _SCREEEEEEEEP!_

Clark winced, the shrill tone making his teeth vibrate. "Turn it off...," he mumbled, trying in vain to put his hands to his ears. His eyes opened and he saw a man and a woman in lab coats standing over him, one holding what looked like a radio, from which the high-pitched squeal was coming.

"It works on the same frequency as your dBfs. Your super-hearing, as we've coined it," the man explained as though he were giving a tour to fourth-graders. The women leaned down and dabbed at his ears, which evidently had started bleeding.

"Where's my mom," Clark demanded thickly as she worked. "You can't keep me here like this."

"If you want to see Martha today," the man told him sternly, "you need to start cooperating. Alright? No more of that stuff from this morning."

Clark ignored him and lifted his head to inspect his surroundings yet again. He was now in a brightly lit room with tall windows that let in the rising sun's brilliant rays. He realized he was sitting in a dentist-like chair, restraints around his wrists and ankles. He eyed a led box sitting on a tray to his left.

The man followed his gaze. "If you work with us today, Clark, we won't have to pull out the meteor rock again."

"I don't even know what I'm doing here," Clark retorted, teeth clenched. "How am I supposed to help when no one will tell me anything?"

"Calm down, Clark-"

"Will you people stop patronizing me and give me some answers?" He cried, lifting his head as far as he could. "I want to know why I'm being held like a lab-rat and no one seems to mind! Where is this, even?"

"Don't you remember?"

"No!" Clark shouted, irritation rising. "Last I checked I was living in a free country, drinking orange juice in my own kitchen, and I wake up here. I want to talk to Dr. Hudson."

There was a pause. Then a gravely, semi-computerized voice came through the speaker overhead. "You didn't mention the memory problems."

"I didn't know, Sir," the women replied, glancing towards what Clark had thought was a regular wall mirror, but come-to-think, was probably a two-way mirror. "Would you like to speak to him?"

Another pause. "Leave the room, both of you." The two strangers turned and went swiftly from the room. A few moments later, the door swung open and Clark could hear someone else entering, though it took a little while for the newcomer to come into his view.

"Hey Clark, how are we doing today?" he said pleasantly.

Clark felt something like dazed relief come over him when he realized Lex was not in a wheelchair as he had been during his last encounter with this Phantom Zoner. Lex even seemed happy to see Clark.

Clark slowly let his head back down. "Lex. Lex, what's going on? I woke up in a cell, did…did something happen, am I in quarantine or something? Is my mom okay?" He wanted to ask if this was another simulation by an escaped phantom, but doubted Lex would be able to help on that count. Then a thought struck him. Maybe the phantom wasn't going by "Dr. Hudson" this time, perhaps he had a new name. Still, he would probably be the head doctor. "Lex," he said quickly, picking his head up again. "Who's in charge here, I need to speak to him."

Lex was giving him an odd look. Confused, curious…fascinated. "I guess last night's radiation treatment was more damaging than I thought."

"Treatment." Clark repeated faintly. "What-"

"Don't worry, Clark." He smiled coolly and patted him on shoulder. "We're going to fix you up, okay? Dr. Garner will-"

"Dr. Garner? From Belle Reeve, are you insane? You know what he did to Ryan, what he did to me- Lex, have you been…are you…" he felt his pulse quicken. Was Lex the phantom? The monitor beside him started revving, then beeping. "You're behind this? You're-" Sparks began flying from several of the machines monitoring his vitals, showering the tile floor with orange stars of electricity. Lex took several steps back but looked on, unperturbed. "You can't do this!" Clark bellowed at him, lunging against his restraints and feeling the Kryptonite burning against his wrists.

"You're going to injure yourself," Lex said shortly and turned, opening the door. "I need some sedative in here! Ten CCs should do it." Lex left and the two doctors (or scientists, or whatever they were), scrambled back into the room. The man grabbed Clark by the shoulders; the women scurried to a drawer and pulled out a small box. Tearing it open, she held up a syringe, squirted a little of it into the air, then reached for Clark's arm.

"I got it," the man said, letting go of Clark long enough to grab what looked like an alcohol swab. However when he rubbed it against Clark's forearm, he knew instantly it wasn't alcohol. Clark gasped as the Kryptonite soaked through his skin, giving the syringe room for entry.

"Don't…what is that?" Clark craned his neck to see the clear solution that was about to go into his bloodstream. "Get that away from me, I want to speak to Lex!" But the women ignored him and swiftly emptied the syringe into his forearm, removing it at last and taking a step back.

A small, red dot marked where the needle had been, but as the Kryptonite seeped in, the spot disappeared. The man finally let go of Clark's shoulders as his struggles began to still. "That's just awesome," he told the women, who nodded in wonder and threw the syringe away.

"Clark, you okay?" Lex's voice crackled over the speaker again. A strange numbing sensation was coming over Clark's body. He fought to stay alert, but his head began to swim, chest heavy, breath shallow. "Clark?"

"You can't…"

"Clark, listen to me. Are you listening? We have some very important tests to do today; I need you to work with me."

"I have to speak with my mom," Clark said, eyelids drooping under the sedation. "You have to…I should…"

However, his mouth was dry and his mind running out of demands. No one cared about his demands. No one cared at all. A bizarre feeling that he had seldom felt before rushed over him like a bad dream: Helplessness.

_Something's very wrong here…_ he thought, and the fight went out of him like smoke in the wind.

- - - - -

It had taken ten hours to complete all of Lex's tests. They had performed all of them on his right leg for some reason, taking blood, tissue and a myriad of other samples. So many needles had gone into his knee, ankle and calf that some of the small, red marks remained unhealed. By the time Lex entered the room and announced they were done, the sun was beginning to set. "Good work, Clark," Lex had told him approvingly. "I'm scheduling some memory enhancing treatment for tomorrow, okay? Get you back to normal." He held up a radio, hitting the side-button. "Mr. Kent is ready to return to his room."

Clark couldn't recall a time he had felt more…there was no word for it. Frozen, numb…tormented. When they unstrapped him, his arms slipped over the sides of the chair and hung limply at his sides. Two men with "Care Unit" emblazoned on their shirtfronts attempted to support him out of the room, but his leg began to seize and they set him back into the chair, returning moments later with a gurney. Even though he was unable to move any of his limbs, they secured his wrists and ankles, and then set off.

Marching down long halls, through exam rooms, past gaping windows, Clark could only watch the taupe ceiling and florescent lights go by overhead, trying to hold his eyes open. They finally stopped outside a set of double-doors, and one of them pulled out a strip of thick, black cloth and tied it over Clark's eyes. "What's this for," Clark said faintly, realizing it was the first time he'd spoken for several hours.

"You know the drill, Clark. You're not allowed to see where your room is."

"You mean my cell," Clark bit back with what little vinegar he had in him. There was a pause followed by a soft rushing sound as they proceeded between the doors.

He tried hard to keep track of all the lefts, rights and straight-aheads, but his tired mind couldn't hold on to it all. At last, he heard the familiar sound of metal on metal, and they removed the blindfold. They lifted him from the stretcher and half led, half carried him to his bed.

"I know you missed lunch this afternoon, so we'll bring you an early dinner," one of them told him brightly. "Anything in particular you'd like?"

"I'd like to talk to Lionel Luthor." The man glanced at his partner, and then smiled down at Clark. "How about dinner first."

"Where am I," Clark said tiredly, rolling his head to the side, eyes half-closed. "What's happening, why…why am I here? What is it you want me to do?"

"Sorry, that's not my department, Clark."

"Then what is your department?" he asked, focusing on the two of them. "I don't even know who any of you people are or what you're doing here. I'm not insane and you all know…well, what I am. Why else would you shoot me full of Kry-" he realized with a start his mind was getting sluggish, and corrected, "of meteor rock all afternoon? Just to send me to this cell with no answers."

Again, the two shared a glance. "Mr. Luthor said he had memory loss after the therapy last night," the second man said in an undertone, and the first nodded and looked back down at Clark.

"Tell you what. I'll bring you a brochure with your dinner. Sound good?"

Out of options, Clark found the energy to nod and soon he heard the door shut and he was alone once more. Left only with his thoughts, he realized he wished he had something to distract him. Maybe if he fell asleep, he'd awake in the kitchen with his orange juice once more. Maybe…just maybe…

- - - - -

Clark awoke suddenly from a very strange dream in which Shelby grabbed him by the jacket and dragged him into a giant steal cage. He had rattled at the bars for hours, until his fingertips bled. Then Lex finally found him there, but just stood back, taking notes as Clark yelled for him to open the cage.

Clark stared at the ceiling for a long time, realizing that he would prefer to be dreaming of Lana, and trying to remember where he was and why he felt so horrible. Then with a feeling as though the very air were pressing on his chest, it all flooded back to him.

He sat up gradually and found a new tray of food on the floor beside his cot. Spaghetti, salad and ice water. He lifted it from the floor, noticing how fatigued he felt. Slid beneath the plate, however, he found something that pushed his apatite away. It had to be the brochure the guard had mentioned.

The world stood still as Clark's eyes swept over the headline: **The Destination Project**, _We Are Not Alone_. Beneath it was a picture of Clark. It was like a nightmare. He didn't recognize the shot of him, standing in front of an impressive-looking building, eyes fixed on the sky above him in a dramatic pose. Upon closer inspection, however, he could tell the shot had not been posed, but taken without his notice. He began to read.

_On October of 1989, disaster and tragedy struck the rural town of Smallville, KS. A meteor shower. Hundreds died, millions were affected, but along with this calamity and all the heartbreak with it, there came a hope. A miniscule ray of light amongst the darkness. A boy, sent to our humble world to better man's understanding of this great universe. An alien. And his name is Clark Kent._

Clark felt his stomach churning as he read on. It explained how Luthor Corp had created The Destination Project to utilize Clark's abilities as a means to better human knowledge and technology. It also boasted how Lex Luthor himself had vowed to treat the projects' protégé as a "son of science". Clark wasn't sure what that was supposed to mean, but he was certain the tests they'd spent most of the day doing were not what the public had in mind when they read this brochure.

He examined the entire thing, cover to cover, three times. All the photos showed cheerful scientists in white coats playing with vials containing Kool-Aid-like liquids, Lex making grand speeches to spotless assemblies and even two of Clark; in a white room doing some kind of inane-looking logic puzzle and later, unconscious with a few sensors attached to his forehead. It all looked so clean, so innocent. Oh! Watch the experienced young scientists examine Earth's first alien. Don't you feel safe? Aren't you glad that this friendly being from another world traveled to us so we could better man's understanding? Clearly, no one knew about the Kryptonite, the restraints or the needles.

He threw the brochure onto the cold tile, feeling sick. This had to be the phantom's doing. The only problem was Lex appeared to be in charge of this operation, which was inconsistent with his last nightmarish experience with this phantom. Was he really willing to kill Lex over a hunch?

The door slid open and Clark impulsively shifted as close to the wall as he could when he saw Lex enter followed by the two Care Unit guards. "What do you want?"

Lex held up a small Dixie cup. "You haven't taken your meds, Clark, you need to."

"I'm not taking anything," Clark said, flattening himself on hands and knees against the wall behind the bed. His leg shuddered beneath his weight and he fell onto his stomach, hand grasping at the spasmodic limb. Lex pressed forward, asking one of the guards for a glass of water. He knelt beside Clark's bed.

"Listen to me, Clark," he told him firmly. "I am not a villain here, I'm trying to help you. These pills are for you, to keep you healthy."

"Because you'd hate for your guinea pig to die on you," Clark gritted between clenched teeth. His eyes widened threateningly. "Heaven forbid the world finds out what you've done to their precious ray of light in the darkness, or whatever."

Lex studied him for a moment and opened his mouth resolutely. "Do you want to see your parents tomorrow or don't you?"

Clark, still trembling, lifted his eyes. "My…parents…?"

"Jonathan and Martha, do you want to see them. Because if you can't work with me, you will be scheduled for your health-check tomorrow and be quarantined for the day. You won't see them till next week, is that what you want?"

Clark's chest felt tight. The trembling in his leg stilled a bit. "My father's alive…" he shook his head. "He's…"

Lex glanced over his shoulder at the guards. "Make a note for me; I want to start him on Venlafaxine tomorrow. Put him down for a three-day trial run." The guard nodded, and reached into his coat for a small notepad. Lex turned back to Clark who was still staring at him in disbelief. "You've been through a lot today. But I need you healthy and you need your visiting hours. I've seen what isolation does to you, Clark." He lifted the Dixie cup. "You want to take these pills. Trust me."

Clark's head seemed to be shaking itself. What if Lex was the phantom? What if this was the operation he had to resist?

"Clark, if you don't, you know we're just going to green-smoke the room and force this into your system when you're unconscious." Clark's eyes darted to Lex's face, his fear apparent. "Make this easy for both of us and you'll see Jonathan and Martha tomorrow morning. I promise."

Slowly, with trembling fingers, Clark took the cup, tipped the pills down his throat, then took the water from Lex and drank deeply. "That's it, good work Clark." Lex took the glass and set it on the floor beside Clark's bed. "That tremor in your leg should go away momentarily. I also gave you Zolpidem so you'll start feeling drowsy in a bit here, but don't be alarmed. You could use the rest."

Clark's body had already started slowing down. His hands felt even heavier than before and the muscles in his neck wouldn't hold his head up. He slowly slid over, head falling limply amongst the cot's tousled covers, and he felt the twinge in his leg beginning to subside.

As his mind drifted off for the fourth time that day, he vaguely heard Lex lean over him and say, "I'll call your parents." Then the three men left his room, turning off the lights behind them and leaving him in complete darkness. Except, of course, for the dull, green glow on his wrists.

- - - - -


	3. Three

- - - - -

When Clark awoke the next morning, he was first forced through a bowl of granola, then escorted downstairs to "get ready" for his visit. In other words, they put him in a padded room and inserted led weights between the Kryptonite bracelets and his skin. He could still feel the effects, and his powers were weak, but it gave his body a chance to heal itself. Lex didn't need the Kents reporting signs of abuse.

Once all the scars and pinpricks had disappeared, the lead was removed and he was taken to get a new set of clothes. Finally, they went to the White Room, an aptly-named, bedroom-sized room built specifically for Clark's visiting hours. Lex personally oversaw the process of sweeping the small room for any recording devices that weren't meant to be there, and then sat Clark down in a folding chair behind a bleached oak table with small, silver rings protruding from its smooth surface.

Clark was about to ask what the rings were for, when one of the guards strung a thin piece of lead cable through each ring, clipping the looped ends to the Kryptonite bracelets with two tiny, brass locks. Clark instinctively pulled against the cables, which held firmly.

Lex put both hands on the table, leaning into his vision. "You prove yourself over the next week, we won't have to restrain you next time."

Clark narrowed his eyes and ground his teeth, holding his response behind them and Lex, nodding approvingly, left the room. Moments later, the guards followed and Clark was left alone. "We're going to behave this time, right Clark?" Lex's voice came through an overhead speaker. Clark didn't reply. "Clark, please answer me."

"Fine," he said, eyes fixed on the door at the end of the room. "But you have to leave me alone during the visit."

"Of course I will." The com clicked off and finally, the door opened.

Adrenaline shot through Clark's chest like a golden wave. Jonathan was standing in the doorway. Just- standing there. He paused for only a moment, then the door shut behind him and he came and swift walk across the room and leaned down to his son, one arm across his chest, the other across his shoulders. Clark couldn't return the embrace, so he just shut his eyes and leaned into it. "Dad…" he whispered, and Jonathan put a hand to the back of his head.

Jonathan stepped back, kneeling next to Clark's chair and putting both his hands on his son's face. "Are you alright."

"I'm okay," Clark lied with a wan smile. "How…how are you, I missed you." He only wished Jonathan could know how much.

His father smiled a little. "I'm doing okay."

"How's mom?"

"Your mother and Lara are both fine. She can't come today, but she-"

"Uh-" Clark broke in, shaking his head. "Lara…?"

"Lara." Jonathan waited as though figuring the truth would sink in, but Clark's face remained confused. "Lara, Clark," he repeated. "Is…is your memory again?"

"Again?"

Jonathan stood, eyes fixed heatedly up at the ceiling. "Lex what have you done to him this time?" he demanded of the speaker.

"We can't talk right now Mr. Kent," the speaker replied, unperturbed. "I promised Clark I wouldn't intervene."

"He says he thinks I lost memory during my treatment last night," Clark explained.

"Treatment," Jonathan echoed.

Clark went on, "But it's not that, Dad, I just…I'm remembering a completely different reality." He leaned forward, desperately. "It's like this is all a nightmare. I think maybe it's a phantom again, but I can't hear the real world trying to get in touch with me. I haven't heard Shelby this time, and I can't find Dr. Hudson anywhere. But I swear, I don't remember anything about getting abducted by Luthor Corp or what happened to everyone or who Lara is…" he trailed off miserably, knowing none of this would make sense to Jonathan. But it was better than not saying it.

Pain was etched on Jonathan's face, but he tried to cover it up, sitting on his heels, a hand on Clark's knee, as though telling him a story. "Well uh…Lara is your little sister."

"I have a sister?"

"Yes, your um…" he cleared his throat. "Your mother was healed by the ship, remember? And-"

"But the baby died."

Jonathan watched him then began to shake his head very slowly. "Clark…Lara was born in the summer. You were there, you…you wanted to call her Jamie, but your mother chose Lara."

"After my biological mother," Clark finished, but Jonathan shook his head.

"No, it was your first word. How do you know about your biological mother?"

"I uh…I don't." Clark tugged at the cables so he could press his hands to his eyes. "Dad how long have I been in here?"

Jonathan opened his mouth to reply, but the door at the back of the room swung in and Lex entered, followed (as typical) by two Care Unit guards. "Time's up," Lex announced.

Jonathan got up off his knees, taking a defensive stand beside Clark's chair. "It's only been three minutes, Lex, your own rules state-"

"Change of plans for your protection, Mr. Kent," Lex interrupted politely.

"I don't need to be protected from my own son, thank you."

"Well unfortunately our insurance disagrees. I'm going to have to ask you to leave."

Clark strained to look over his shoulder. "Lex you told me if I took the medication-"

"Plans change, Clark. Mr. Kent, stand back please."

"I need to talk with him, Lex. You said- we made a deal!" Clark exclaimed, panic rising with his voice. He felt like his one link to sanity was slipping away. Then the door at the front of the room swung slightly ajar and a young women poked her head in.

"This way, please, Mr. Kent." Jonathan stood motionless and the secretary looked questioningly at Lex.

"He'll be right with you, Miss Dench," Lex told her, and handed a brass key to one of the men. He took it, went around to Clark's left hand and unlocked it. After a firm glance at Jonathan, he undid the right one as well and stood back as his partner approached Clark, holding out a pair of restraints.

In a blinding moment of decision, Clark leapt from his chair onto the tabletop, hit the floor and sprinted for the front door. Over his shoulder, he heard Jonathan shout, "Clark!" but whether it was encouragement or warning, he couldn't be sure.

He went at a dead run and the secretary screamed and ran from the doorway, shouting, "Code green, send security! Code green!" He reached the door just as it began to shut itself, felt the cold, metal handle beneath his sweating hand, and then the taste of freedom disappeared as an arm came out of nowhere yanking him back by the waist.

Clark and the Care Unit guard hit the floor hard and the scuffling began. Clark got a few lucky hits, catching the man in the face and twice in the stomach, but the reinforcements arrived just as Clark scrambled to his hands and knees. Suddenly a feeling like being frozen and on fire at the same time exploded down Clark's spine. His body convulsed, sending him crashing back to the floor, head impacting smartly and sending bursts of white light into his vision.

Survival instinct kicked in again and he struggled to get up. The white-hot pain returned, this time accompanied by a loud buzzing he hadn't noticed before. He cried out and heard Jonathan shouting his name and Lex calling out sternly, "Don't hurt him!"

Someone tipped Clark to the side so he was sprawled on his back, staring up at the bright ceiling. He moaned softly and saw Lex and Trently standing over him, the latter holding a taser in-hand. The next several moments were a blur as the Care Unit buckled him into the restraints and hauled him off the floor. His knees felt like rubber and as he was guided passed Jonathan, he could see his father's face was nothing short of livid. Two of Luthor Corp's security guards were attempting to escort Jonathan out the front door without appearing as though they were man-handling him. Clark saw a few scratches and one bloody nose between them. Jonathan had certainly done his best, though he was sporting a split lip.

"Clark," he said quickly, and Clark realized he had been trying to talk to him for a little bit now. "Are you alright?"

Clark blinked groggily back, trying to hold his head up. "Dad-" his throat was sore and he tried to clear it despite the tightness in his chest. Before he had the chance to speak, the two Care Unit officials turned him around and marched him out the back. Then the door shut behind them with a "snap", and Jonathan was gone.

- - - - -

"Why didn't you just use meteor rock." Clark's limbs still stung from the electric shock.

"I'm trying to keep your exposure to a minimum," Lex told him conversationally, watching as the monitor by Clark's head beeped monotonously. "You're scheduled for memory treatment this afternoon, that's plenty meteor rock for one day."

Clark glared back at him. "The treatment that nearly killed me last time? The one you had to save me from, Lex?"

Lex cast him a curious glance, then went back to the monitor. "You're delusional, Clark. You've done fine with the treatment in the past. We'll keep the test to under ten minutes, just like always, and you'll have a chance for full recovery. Two treatments a week is the limit, remember?" He smiled reassuringly at Clark whose eyebrows knit in disbelief. "You'll be fine."

"That's right, Lex, you feed yourself whatever lie you need to. Just so long as you don't have to think about the danger you're putting your science project in."

"Don't be so dramatic. I have learned more about you and those meteor rocks in the last six months than I could have dreamed. I'm an expert; I probably know more about your body's tolerance for radioactivity than you do." He took down a few notes and leaned over the chair, smiling in that condescending way the made Clark want to head-butt him. "But you've been keeping something from me."

"That so."

"You know about your biological mother. Lara, right?" Clark's throat closed. "This is good news, Clark. I didn't think you remembered your parents."

"I don't. I got confused; my mom's middle name is Lara."

"Martha's middle name is Melanie," Lex countered. "And don't lie to me, Clark. It doesn't look good on you."

They spent the next several hours giving Clark a "full check-up", as Lex kept calling it. A prissy young woman with short, dark hair sat down with him in a very sterilized-looking room and began to put him through a neuropsychological test called a mini-mental state examination. Three other doctors stood by and observed as Clark answered questions; logical, problem-solving, arithmetic, geometric. He noticed they asked him the "You're walking down the sidewalk and see a letter lying on the ground, what do you do?" question twice. He gave the same answer both times, verbatim, which she seemed to find fascinating.

Once he was finished with the Q and A, they moved onto puzzles. He did three with wooden blocks, and then drew about twelve pictures. A "safe place", a friend, four circles that don't touch, four circles that do touch, etc. The woman finally gathered up her things and left the room, informing Lex it would be at least an hour before she got her results done. He told her thirty minutes would be sufficient.

The rest of the doctors exited, and Lex shut the door, leaving Clark alone with a sickening sense of failure. On the one hand, why sweat the little things that weren't going to hurt him? On the other, he had just complied with Lex's hour-long mental work-up, no questions asked. He could feel the lead padding the walls around him as though it were giving off heat. He closed his eyes and tried to remember a time he had felt so trapped.

Awhile later, three of Luthor Corp's personnel came in to collect Clark. "Good news," Lex said as he came striding in behind them. "Dr. Neiman has given us the go-ahead for memory treatment." Clark just gave him an icy stare as he was jostled out of his chair and escorted from the room.

- - - - -

"Are we ready, Clark?"

Clark clenched his jaw and didn't respond. He could already sense the Kryptonite eating away at his energy even though he was suspended six feet above it. Dr. Garner was at the switchboard, Lex standing over his shoulder, stylus poised over his palm pilot. It was identical to how it had been three years ago, when Clark had been forced into his earliest memory. Only this time Lex wouldn't come to save him. He was the one about to lower him into certain risk in the name of science.

"Ten minutes on the clock please, Greg." Dr. Garner turned his attention back to Clark and repeated, "Are you ready?"

"No."

"What's the matter," he asked in mock-patience.

"I don't like the idea of being submerged in a radioactive substance that is deadly to me," Clark bit back, his voice echoing off dark, tile walls. "I take it the world has no idea what you've been doing down here."

Lex looked irritated. "We're accountable for our operations, don't be so naïve. As I've told you, we release progress reports every…" he trailed off and sighed audibly, inclining his head to Dr. Garner and speaking in a low voice. "We need to get his mind back to normal; this rebellious streak is hampering all my tests."

"I can see that." The doctor noted blandly. "I'm going to lower you down now, Clark. Do you remember doing this a few weeks ago?"

"I don't remember anything that supposedly happened in the last six months," he said petulantly, then added, "and I don't see how killing me is going to-"

"Easy Clark," Lex admonished. "Listen to Dr. Garner."

"I need you to take a deep breath and shut your eyes." Clark kept his eyes stoically open. "Look we can submerge you while you're rigid or relaxed. The latter's going to make this a lot less painful."

Still trying to suppress the trembling in his chest, Clark reluctantly took a deep breath and closed his eyes. Fear flooded his mind as he felt himself moving slowly downwards. The sense of Kryptonite became stronger and stronger, like stepping closer to a fire. Suddenly he felt it licking at his skin and the seizers began. His shoulders heaved, his hands and feet started to twitch independent of him and his eyes shot open again.

"Try to calm down, Clark. I want you to reach back into your mind and remember the day you came to Luthor Corp. The day the Destination Project began."

His mind reeled. He was seeing images he did not recognize. Martha was crying, helicopters whirred overhead, Jonathan floored the gas pedal and the red pickup ripped across the highway.

"Clark!" he was shouting, panic etched in every line on his face. "Son you have to run. You have to get out of here. You can't let them catch you. They'll kill you!" The words echoed around him overlapping hundreds of times.

"DAD! DAD! Dad- Da…" Clark's breath hitched. He felt queasy and warm as the glowing green water lapped against his trembling body.

"Further, Clark, further back. Come on. Come on." The words sounded coaxing to his tormented mind, and he found himself fighting to remember.

A loud rumbling filled his ears, green light flashed in front of him. Cold bars pressed against his face. Was he lying on a grate? His stomach churned, his head spun. There was another sound. A low growling.

"Please…" he heard himself saying in the memory. "You don't… understand." Someone was standing in front of him, but was too busy speaking animatedly on their cell phone. For a brief moment, it all seemed just a little familiar…but Clark's mind fought it. If Lex succeeded with this test, he would move on to finding out about Lara and Jor-El. He panicked and scrambled to remember what had happened last time he'd done this test.

"DAD!" Clark shouted suddenly. "Dad! Lana!"

"Clark-" Dr. Garner interjected firmly, but Clark kept going, crying out as though the names could save him. Hoping his voice would drown out any concentration.

"Dad! Mom, Chloe- ah!" he gasped as Dr. Garner tried to use an electric charge to stimulate his mind.

He saw snow falling. He felt cold. His breath came out in short bursts in front of his face, and someone was laughing. "You and me, buddy, we are going to be like- millionaires. I have no idea why he's being so generous, but man- we are rich! Filthy, stinking rich, man, wooh!"

Clark wrenched his thoughts back to the present. "Mom-" he chocked. "Mom! Lana!"

"It's not going to work, Clark."

"Mr. Luthor, it's been eleven minutes," Dr. Garner told him flatly.

"And?" Lex countered. "You said we have to push his limits to get anything done. Lawrence."

"Is a personal vendetta worth the test? Lex?" the doctor shot back. "I'm overriding you professionally. Pull him out, Greg."

"You still want your job, Greg?"

Suddenly Clark began to scream. The names seemed to tear from his throat like violent coughs. "DAD! C-CHLOE! CHLOE! Chl-" he felt his throat suddenly close as the Kryptonite ate through the back of his mind, corroding his consciousness. The room became dim and bucked in his vision as his body pitched in the green water. It was both excruciating and almost soothing. Any minute, he would have to pass out.

He vaguely heard people shouting, rushing around the room. Dr. Garner was barking orders, saying, "Get him out of there, now!" repeatedly. By the time they lifted him out of the tank, he wasn't breathing.

- - - - -


	4. Four

- - - - -

"Clark…? Clark- Jonathan, I think he's waking up."

"Clark?"

Clark opened his eyes, taking in the bright light slowly. At first, the golden glow made the back of his eyes ache and he shut them again, but when he realized who had spoken, they snapped back open. He felt a flutter of inexpressible relief run through him. "Mom."

Martha was beside his bed, holding his hand tightly in hers. When he spoke, tears spilled down her cheeks, and she pressed her forehead to his shoulder. "Oh sweetheart…"

Last time he heard that voice, he was lying in bed after awaking from his nightmare about Lana. He wished now he hadn't pretended to be asleep.

Clark turned his head slightly and saw Jonathan standing on his other side. His gaze bounced around the room, finding it a surprisingly pleasant-looking place with white walls and blue accents. Bright paintings in wooden frames decorated a few of the walls, and over Martha's shoulder, he could see a tall window with sheer curtains casting fuzzy shadows on the carpeted floor. The only sign that he was in the same world was the gentle throbbing around his wrists that told him the bracelets were still there.

His eyes fell back on Jonathan. "But- how…?"

"I'm not pressing charges for the fat lip and dislocated shoulder, Lex is permitting some real visiting rights for a bit," Jonathan explained with a tired smile. "Besides," he added, easing himself into a chair and pulling it closer to Clark's bed. "Lex may be amoral and unscrupulous, but he does know enough to keep the family happy. More-or-less."

"Nice to see he draws the line somewhere."

"It's not for you, it's for him. The public doesn't like to see the 'farm-tending Kents' getting walked on by Luthor Corp."

"Well I mean sure, you're the kind-hearted mortals who raised mankind's only hope for scientific advancement," Clark teased, smiling feebly.

Martha laughed with him, but Jonathan had to force a smile. Clark sighed, turning his head to the side and feeling the same heaviness settling on him. "Lex said I've been here six months?" They didn't reply, the answer apparent in their downcast eyes. "I can't believe that."

"Neither can I sometimes," Jonathan replied quietly.

"Not that." Clark clenched his jaw, meeting his father's eyes. "I can't even do this for a few days; I can't imagine how I've been powering through for six months. Dad, I can hold my own against Lex. But the-" he glanced up at the cameras in the ceiling above him, stopping short of saying 'Kryptonite' yet again. "The meteor rocks. Once he brings that to the table, I'm…" his voice trailed away. He didn't like the idea of admitting he felt helpless, but it was an inescapable fact.

Martha sat up straight, squeezing his hand. "Clark?" He looked at her. "What happened. What did- what did they do…?"

"I'm okay, Mom." He felt her nails brush lightly against his forehead as she pushed a few rogue strands of hair out of his eyes. He suddenly found himself wanting to tell her everything. He wanted her pity, her care. His father's strength. The full reality of how bruised he'd become hit him head-on. Wasn't he stronger than this? He remembered being stronger.

"I can't tell you the details…I don't really want to," he added, giving her a rueful smile. "But listen." He tried to sit up a little, but sank back, swallowing the nausea. "I'm built to recover."

Tears sprang to Martha's eyes, and she buried her face in the white pillow Clark's head rested on, one arm wrapped across his chest. "Mom," he said pleadingly, putting a hand on her red head, and felt Jonathan move swiftly to the other side of the bed.

"Martha?" he said attentively, but she sat up as he touched her shoulder.

"No I'm alright, I'm-" she swiped at her eyes and looked back at Clark. "I'm trying too, Clark. You know you and your father were always better at that than me." She put on a smile for him. "I just think about when you were in high school, and we had to watch you struggle with the meteor rocks. And knowing that Lex Luthor would put you through-"

"Mom, I'm going to be okay. A man's only as good as his moral support, right?"

"Speaking of that," Jonathan said, "we brought someone to see you."

"Oh- that's right!" Martha squeezed Clark's hand, eyes falling darkly on the Kryptonite bracelet, then stood and kissed him on the forehead. "I'll be right back." She slipped quietly from the room.

Clark took a long breath. "I think this is hurting her more than me."

"Despite her self-depreciation, your mother's a strong person," Jonathan told him. "But neither of us are very good at hiding our concern, never have been."

"I guess not," Clark smiled.

"And neither are you." The smile slid and Clark looked away. "Son I admire your courage, but you don't have to protect me." He put his elbows on his knees and leaned forward intently. "That's my job."

Clark watched him, the temptation to tell all nearly overwhelming. At last he said, "I don't know how I'm going to wake every morning, knowing what awaits me. It's…it's endless. Lex's apatite for answers is enormous, Dad, I don't-" he shook his head, his own thoughts too scrambled to finish.

Jonathan could really think of nothing to say. He didn't have the heart to tell his son to be strong, yet Clark had no desire to fall apart. So instead, he just reached forward, took his hand and held it for a long time. To Clark, it was as if he was promising to get him out of here. Even though that was impossible right now, he appreciated it more than he could say, and for the millionth time, he reminded himself that his father was alive. Jonathan was alive.

The door sprang open, and Clark sat up to see Martha returning. With her was a little girl with shoulder-length strawberry-blonde hair that Clark had never seen before. Martha looked about to make an introduction, but the little girl broke away, tearing across the room and squealing, "Calark! Calark, you home!"

To his astonishment, she bounded onto his bed, throwing her arms around his neck and squeezed tightly. Her hair smelled like watermelon bubble bath. He remembered that scent from his own childhood. "Hey," he said awkwardly, smiling over her shoulder at Martha.

"Your father told me that you were having trouble remember Lara, so we thought we'd bring her with us today. Lex okayed it," she added sarcastically.

Clark felt something fluttering in his stomach, and his arms went about the little girl, returning her hug. "Hey. Hey Lara." He liked the way it sounded.

She finally pulled back, sitting on her heals. The toes of her sneakers dug sharply into Clark's legs, but he didn't care. "Are you are coming home soon, Calark?" she asked him, poking absently at his mouth and nose.

Clark managed a small laugh. "I'm uh…no, Lara. I have to stay here a bit."

"A sick," she said knowledgably.

"Yeah. I'm kind of sick right now." He smiled, feeling more comfortable with her by the moment. "But listen, I'm going to come and see you real soon, okay? We can play in the barn."

Her eyes widened excitedly, and she turned her head to Jonathan. "Barn, Daddy, barn! Please a barn?"

"We're not going to play in the barn right now, sweet pea," he told her, casting Clark a furtive smile. "Right now we're going to visit with Clark. Can you say that? Clllark?"

"Caaal-ark!" Lara responded, nodding happily, confident she was correct.

Martha shook her head. "I don't think she's ever going to start saying that right."

"I kind of like it," Clark said defensively, poking Lara in the knee. She giggled and squirmed, then hopped off his bed, running to the window and throwing the curtain back to survey the rather boring view of Luthor Corps' construction on the left wing. "She's beautiful," Clark said, watching her.

"She may not have your eyes," Jonathan told him, turning to watch the back of her curly head, "but she did get your spunk somehow."

"Any holes in the walls?"

Jonathan looked back at him and noticed he was grinning. He laughed, "You still hold top score for temper-fits, son."

"Calark?" Lara turned from the window. "'us a my name?" Clark furrowed his brow, trying to translate. "'us a a my name?" she insisted, smacking herself on the chest.

"Oh," Clark replied suddenly. "What's your name?"

"'us MY name," she clarified.

"Your name is Lara. What's my name?"

"Uh…" she jabbed a finger at Jonathan. "Daddy."

"Yeah, that's Daddy, but what's my name?" She squinted suspiciously at him. "Cl…" he hinted, and she started dancing up and down.

"Calark!" Clark let out a genuine laugh as Lara squealed and spun back to the window.

He felt a pang of guilt. "Think she knows I forgot her?"

"Lara has a big heart," Martha said, coming to stand next to his bed again. "Much like someone else I know. I don't think she'd mind."

He nodded, feeling a lump in his throat all the same. If by some amazing stretch of reality, the world he found himself in was indeed real…he'd utterly forgotten his own little sister. Not as though it mattered. If this was the real world, he was going to grow up in Luthor Corp, seeing his sister maybe twice a month. Lex had certainly jacked everything up to a crazy, unfair level. It's what kept Clark fighting what was in front of his eyes.

As though in conclusion to his thoughts, Lex came striding in at that moment, a studious-looking doctor in-toe. "Time's up, Mr. and Mrs. Kent."

Martha forced a polite smile and went to collect Lara. Jonathan didn't bother sugarcoating the glare he fired Lex's direction as he rose from his chair. "We're going to see you again soon," he said gently, leaning down to squeeze both Clark's shoulders in a makeshift hug.

Martha held Lara against her front and leaned down so she could give Clark a wet a kiss on the cheek. "Say bye-bye to Clark."

Lara flopped her hand around in the air. "G'bye, Calark."

"Bye, Lara. I'll see you soon, okay?"

"See you a'morrow!" He just smiled.

Martha handed Lara to Jonathan so she could kiss Clark goodbye as well. After a brief peck on the forehead, she hovered, uncertain.

"I'll see you soon," Clark told her.

She nodded. "Be safe, sweetheart."

They passed Lex in the doorway and had to pause as the doctor squeezed past. Lex stuck out a hand to Jonathan. "Thank you for coming to visit your son. I hope you know Luthor Corp is always-"

"Quick to cover their bases," Jonathan finished, a spark in his eyes.

Lex seemed to swallow his words behind a saccharine smile. "See you next week, then." He glanced at Lara. "Did you have fun visiting with your brother, Lara?"

Lara looked at him for a full minute before her lower lip began to tremble. She whirled away from him and buried her face in Jonathan's shirt. Lex shrugged apologetically at Martha. "Nap-time, I guess."

Martha smiled back. "Please, don't take it personally. She did the same thing when we went to the Freak Show at the Smallville Fair last fall."

Clark grinned to himself as he watched the three of them slip through the door and out of sight. Then the doctor sat down in the chair Jonathan had been in, surveying a chart. "How are we doing today, Clark?" And like a lead ball, reality landed on him with an inaudible _thud_.

- - - - -

Lex was always the picture of white-collar fascination and yet Clark wondered vaguely if he wasn't taking a bit of his frustration with Clark's memory out on Clark himself. The moment he pulled through with a clean bill of health, it was back into the restraints and off down the hall for more tests, Trently and one other Care Unit employee at his elbows.

As they walked, Lex said it was his responsibility to catch Clark up on "his place in this operation." Apparently, he not only had visitation rights, but a yard for recreation and a library at his disposal, only on the weekends of course. It turned out he also had a much nicer room he was permitted to move to as soon as the project's progression increased.

It was then Clark had to cut in. "You mean as soon as I agree to be a part of your subterfuge." He turned, eyes glinting. "You think your money can hide you forever? I'm not going to lie down and take it, Lex."

Lex mulled that over briefly before replying, "Please Clark. Once meteor rock is involved, all you can seem to do is lie down. Why do you think I had the capsule put in?" He inclined his head upon seeing the blank expression on Clark's face. "Right, you don't remember. We filled it with meteor rock; I had it inserted months ago. To be detonated if things get out of control. Don't give me the wide-eyed shock, Clark. You're the one who told me one of the risks with testing you not knowing what you're capable of. I just removed that from the equation."

"You detonate that capsule, I'll die," Clark said savagely. "Count on it."

Lex smiled to himself. "Clark where did you pick up this mellow drama?"

"It's not going to amuse you so much when I'm flat-lining again."

"You seem to still be intact. Dying doesn't work the same way for you, Clark, and anyway not all tests have to be deadly." Lex pulled the whole group to a stop, standing in front of Clark. "I guess you don't remember this, but we developed a specimen of silver meteor rock near the beginning of the month. Dr. Kellman tested it on you a few days ago, and your reactions were very curious. I am eager to study it further. And don't worry; you will be in no mortal danger this time."

Clark swallowed his fear enough to keep it from showing, but he had the sickening feeling that Lex knew he was afraid anyway. He gestured at the men on either side of Clark. "Down the hall, to the right, Room BT-9. Tell Dr. Kellman to start without me, I'll be there shortly."

Lex brushed past them, and Clark attempted to turn, mind scrambling for some factoid he could throw at him to make him change his mind. "C'mon," one of the men ordered in his ear, grabbing him under the arm and shoving him violently forward. Out of defiance as much as fear, Clark dragged his feet all the way to Room BT-9.

- - - - -

Clark was panting so hard, it felt like his heart was going to burst. "Let…me…go…" he gasped, sweat trickling down his forehead and stinging his eyes. He flinched as though someone had shocked him.

"Stop it, Clark. You're never getting out of here," Dr. Kellman told him harshly. He was a clean-cut man, with beach-boy-like blonde hair that made him look younger than he really was. But the hungry glimmer in his eyes aged him by a good twenty years. And haggard beast trapped in a young doctor's body. "We can't let you go, you're an alien and you're dangerous. You're a monster."

"I'm not a monster!" Clark shouted, his voice straining as he tugged at the straightjacket around him. "That's not what I am, you don't understand!"

Lex suddenly appeared behind the protective glass, coming to stand over Dr. Kellman's shoulder. "How's it going?" he asked, taking a seat.

"Same basic results," Clark heard the doctor reply. "Paranoia, fatigue."

"Mortal symptoms. Very interesting. Clark?" Clark pressed his cheek against the cold, tile wall behind him, trying to ignore Lex's presence. "Answer me."

"Leave me alone…let me go, let me out of here."

"Do you want me to come in there with the Kryptonite, Kal-El?"

Clark turned, horror-struck. "How- how do you know those words?"

Lex laughed scathingly, putting his feet up on the table in front of him. "I've dug further into your mind than you know, son of Jor-El."

"I'm not Kal-El."

"But you are, Clark."

"No…no, no you're lying you're-" he shook his head restlessly.

"Tell me about your mother, Lara."

He jumped as though bitten. "No!"

"Kal-El…" Dr. Kellman said warningly. "Now come on. Do you want us to come in there with Kryptonite?"

Clark began to fight feverishly at the straightjacket again, grunting with the effort. He heard Lex murmur something to Dr. Kellman, who nodded, rising from his seat and reaching into a drawer.

"I need to speak with my parents!" Clark said suddenly. "I have to you…you said you'd let me if I took the medication. I did, I need-"

"Your parents don't want to see you right now, Clark," Lex told him, almost sympathetically. "They've moved on to a new child. A real child. Lara is your parents' greatest treasure now, Clark."

"You're a liar, Lex, you were always a liar!" Dr. Kellman stepped out from behind the glass, hand closed, and Clark abandoned his struggles with the jacket, head coming up sharply. "No…" he said hoarsely as Dr. Kellman's hand began to open. A green light spread between his fingers and Clark instantly tumbled to the floor, trembling head to foot.

"Tell me about your mother, Clark," Lex shouted over Clark's groaning. "Tell me now."

"Get out of my mind!" Clark shouted back, grimacing in pain as Dr. Kellman set the rock down inches from his face. "I'm going back to my life, my real life- Get away from me- Shelby! -get away!"

"Go ahead, Erik," Lex said suddenly, and Dr. Kellman pulled a bottle from his pocket and sprayed it into Clark's face. He gagged on the thick, smoky substance as it infiltrated his lungs, and then his eyes snapped open suddenly.

He was lying on the floor, arms wrapped tightly around his chest as though he were wearing a straightjacket. His hair stuck in sweaty strands to his forehead, and across the floor, where the Kryptonite had been, was a large, black ball. Probably a paperweight. Dr. Kellman stood at the other end of the room, jotting things frantically down on his notebook.

Clark pushed himself shakily to his knees, now looking at Lex who was just staring back in wide-eyed astonishment. "I said the silver meteor rock would break down barriers Mr. Luthor," Dr. Kellman told him smugly.

"Wha- what…what happened," Clark demanded groggily.

Lex shook his head in wonder. "What is 'Kryptonite', what- who is Kal-El, Clark?"

- - - - -

This had to be a nightmare. If Clark believed anything different, he was sure he would lose his mind completely. After the revelation that he had let the words Kryptonite, Kal-El and Jor-El slip, he'd clammed up. Even under threat of a second wave of silver K he refused to say a word. Finally, Lex had agreed that was good for one day, and the Care Unit came in, peeled Clark's exhausted body off the floor and dragged him back to his room. Now he was lying, staring at the ceiling and dreading what the next day might bring. Lex had more ammunition than ever now, and he would use it. The only question was how. And what happened when he decided to start testing red K? What if he had already tested it?

Clark shuddered, rolling onto his side, jaw taught. He wasn't used to being in this much pain, either, and it worried him how he was gradually adjusting to it. He missed his parents' attention, and the nights he'd spend on the couch, recovering from Kryptonite, rather than pressing on to the next horrible encounter. He felt like he was shifting gradually from raw to numb. Could this be real? If it was, why did he remember a whole lifetime that never existed?

His body and mind were exhausted. He wasn't even sure what time it was, only that the sun had been setting when he'd last seen it. They brought him dinner that he was too tired to sit up and eat, and awhile later returned and removed it, leaving the water. Clark had enough energy to hoist himself onto his elbows and take a deep drink of water. Then he flopped over, arms and legs at odd angles, and fell asleep that way.

- - - - -


	5. Five

- - - - -

Lex was behind his desk, thinking. The words "Kryptonite", "Kal-El" and "Jor-El" whipped around in his head, the memory of Clark writhing on the floor playing frame-by-frame like a slideshow in his mind's eye. He supposed, to an extent, Clark was right about the tests. Lex felt he had an obligation to at least try and see his point of view, seeing he had a bizarre bond with his science project. After all, they were once friends weren't they. And in his experience, Clark was usually right. Or at least, he always thought he was, and meant well.

Unfortunately, Clark simply failed to realize how important he was to this world and always had. Being an alien, maybe he could not fully comprehend the need human beings had for answers. Understandable, yet he didn't have to gum up the works every time the meteor rock was brought out. Not three months ago, he'd admitted to Lex that he didn't think the rocks would kill him, if used moderately. So Lex had been careful with their use ever since. But this sudden outbreak, this bout of misbehavior, it was so unlike how Clark had been recently. He'd been…well, docile. Lex cared very little about what the MMSE test results said; something had come loose in Clark Kent's head. It made Lex uneasy.

What would become of The Destination Project if its protagonist was losing his mind? On the other, he'd worn through a wall he had been trying to knock down since Clark came to Luthor Corp: Clark's stubbornness. Seeing him huddled against the floor, shying away from a paperweight and insisting his name wasn't Kal-El, it should not have brought any pleasure to Lex, he knew, but it did. To him, it wasn't Clark falling to pieces; it was stepping out of murky shadows into sharp, yellow light. It was answers.

"Mr. Luthor?" the intercom buzzed, and Lex managed to keep himself from jumping in surprise.

"Miss Dench?"

"Lieutenant Geiger from Security to see you."

Lex paused. He hadn't asked Geiger to come speak with him. "Send him in." The door clicked open moments later and a man in full Army attire stepped inside. "Something to report, Lieutenant?" he asked noncommittally.

"Mr. Luthor, there is a young man downstairs who claims you cleared him for an interview with Clark for nine o'clock this evening."

"Mhm…" Lex booted up his computer, double-clicking on his calendar. "Does he have a form?"

"Yes sir, signed by you."

"Not on the schedule- oh wait." He shook his head, suddenly annoyed. "Nine o'clock AM. He was supposed to come this morning before visiting hours, according to this." He stood up. "Well we can't just turn away the Sci-Fi Channel undergrad; the press doesn't look too kindly on that."

Geiger laughed politely. "Where do you want to do this?"

"Escort him to the Blue Room, that's a nice soft setting, it's where he did the Time interview." Geiger nodded and began to leave. "Oh, and Geiger." He turned. "Where's this kid from?"

"Smallville High."

Lex kneaded his forehead. "Alright then run a radiation test. I don't want any metahumans within twenty feet of Clark."

"I hear you."

Geiger left and Lex went to his desk phone, punching in 331. "Yes, Mr. Luthor?"

"Transfer me to the Care Unit."

There was a whirring, then a click.

"Care Unit, Hodges speaking."

"We need to wake our boy up, he has an interview."

"Alright, you're going to have to give us some clean-up time, Mr. Luthor, he's really out of it."

"How out of it?"

"Uh…" he heard keys clicking on a computer. "I'm looking at the security feed, he hasn't moved in the last hour."

"Give him five CCs of eppy. I want him alert and properly secured in the Blue Room in the next ten minutes."

There was a millisecond of hesitance, then a resigned, "Yes sir, ten minutes."

- - - - -

Clark didn't awake until the needle went into his shoulder. His eyes slid open and he groaned, feeling something warm rushing up his arm. "What do you want," he muttered as someone extracted the needle and rolled him onto his back. A feeling like light racing through his system filled his awareness to the brim. He sat up, gasping for breath, eyes wide. Someone pushed his head down briefly, trying to calm him down and slow the spinning that fogged his vision.

"It's epinephrine, to wake you up." The doctor told him, letting Clark's head go as a few men from the Care Unit crowded into the room, hauling Clark to his feet. Doubled-over, still trying to slow his pounding heart, he was hustled to the doorway.

"Wha- what's going on?" he asked, but as usual he was raced down the hall with no answers.

- - - - -

"Oh my gosh, Mr. Luthor. Wow." Lex eyed the high school student before him while he ogled Luthor Corp's CEO as though he were a movie star.

"Mr. uh…" Lex glanced down at the permission sheet again. "Garrick. Your permission form was filed months in advance, so that might explain a mix-up of times. But can I assume you know the difference between AM and PM?"

The boy shuffled his feet, stuffing his hands in the pockets of his red hoodie. "Yeah I'm real sorry about that, man- uh, sir." He put both palms up as though surrendering. "I swear I saw that leaf, man, and I was like- boom!" Lex raised his eyebrows. "Dude, why would you set up a pow-wow at the crack of dawn, right? Intergalactic's got to be throwing up Z's or watching the Super Bowl. So it stuck in my head that way, never even occurred to me I'd totally missed the concert, know what I mean? Seriously. It won't happen again."

Lex was hard-pressed to hide his amusement, but he continued with the formalities. "Well, Mr. Garrick-"

"Woah man, seriously? Just Jay would be fine." He stuck out both hands making peace-v's. "We're cool."

"Jay." Lex forced a smile. "If you've completed the radioactivity test-"

"Yeah, what's up with the super-freak-scan, anyway? I mean, always wanted to take my girl for a spin in a flying Ferrari or whatever, but dude, I ain't an X-men."

"It's just been our experience that many young people from Smallville have shown mutated abilities. Anyone with meteor rock in their system is a potential risk to Clark." Jay snapped his fingers, pointing both hands like pistols at Lex in an 'it's all good' gesture. "Right," Lex continued, "Well if you're ready, please follow me to the Blue Room, that's where you will be interviewing Clark. May I ask what this is for?"

"Oh!" Jay dug into his back pocket and pulled out a small notebook, showing the header to Lex. _How Accurate is Star Wars? Twenty Minutes with Clark Kent by Jay Garrick_. "It's sweet right? Total A in English for this one, I'm telling you. Blows last year's D out of the water, and, I might land Ava Johnson's number, cause-" and here his voice dropped, as though telling a secret- "total closet Luke Skywalker die-hard."

Lex smiled stiffly. "Congratulations."

They went down the hall to a white door with a silver plaque labeled _The Blue Room_, and Lex turned the silver knob and pushed the door in. "After you, Jay."

Jay walked in slowly, gaping at the grand room, but not half so much as he did when he saw a tall young man sitting on a blue couch to his left, hands folded casually in his lap. "Clark Kent?" Jay asked, still in awe. And to Lex's bewilderment, Clark's jaw dropped ever so slightly in disbelief.

- - - - -

Clark had been jostled and prodded so much from his room to this one he was sure even his impenetrable skin had bruises. They'd sat him down on the blue couch, and given him the following instructions: Sit still, keep your hands folded in your lap, say nothing about the confidential tests or projects going on at Luthor Corp or insinuate in any way that you are being mistreated, since that is slanderous and against the law. Law breaking would lead to "unfortunate consequences". Then they informed him there was an electric charge that would go off if his body weight shifted too much. "So don't get up," one of them added with a jovial smile, and he'd smacked Clark on the shoulder as though they were pals.

After sitting as still as he could for several long minutes, staring around the ridiculously peaceful room, Clark decided to test his boundaries. He made to stand up and felt hot electricity race up his back. Flinching, he sank back onto the couch. He had no idea how Lex had rigged up such a device, but he had certainly covered all his bases. Clark's mind went back to the capsule Lex had mentioned. If he told this interviewer the truth about Luthor Corp, would Lex release the capsule? He wouldn't put it past him.

Finally, the door opened. "After you, Jay," Lex said and motioned a young man in a red hoodie inside. The boy stood in the middle of the room for a moment, staring first around at the powder-blue walls, then at Clark. Despite himself, Clark's mouth fell open in surprise. Then he shut it immediately, feeling Lex's eyes on him.

"Something wrong, Mr. Kent?" Lex asked, putting on the formalities for their company.

"I just- wasn't expecting such a young reporter," Clark responded, smiling at Jay. "Nice to meet you."

"Mr. Clark- uh, Mr. uh…" Jay cleared his throat and stuck out his hand. "Clark, it's awesome to meet you."

Clark hesitated, glancing at Lex, then took the boy's hand and shook it briefly. As he did, he felt a small shock shoot through him once more, and he pulled his hand back quickly. Jay did the same, grinning. "Wooh! Little static shock there, huh? Couch must be suede or something."

"Well, do have a seat Jay," Lex told him, "I'll send Lieutenant Geiger down when twenty minutes is up."

"Thank you Mr. Luthor, and for the record, I'm not like all those reporters who say you're a fascist loser." He punched the air. "You rock." Grinning, he took a seat in a blue armchair across from Clark, and Lex, working up a final, polite smile, closed the door.

Silence hung between the two of them for a few moments. Then Jay pulled out his notebook. "Man, I'm just…I'm totally and completely psyched. I just- I have no idea where to begin, so I just wanna say-" And he vanished. Milliseconds later, as though he'd been a computer-projected image, which had flickered before Clark's eyes, he was sitting in the armchair again, grinning brightly. "Just wanna say it's great seeing ya again, stretch." Clark blinked, glancing over his shoulder to where he was sure there were cameras watching them. "Don't even worry about it, dude, I just put 'um all on the blink. They're watching a loop and wondering why the sound's not working right now."

Clark relaxed a little. "It's good to see you too, Bart."

Bart's grin widened then dissolved and he looked suddenly serious, clapping his hands together. "Right, well we got maybe five minutes till Yul Brynner and his GI Joe's come back in here, all guns blazing. We gotta get you out of here."

"I couldn't agree more, but we have a few problems. This couch for one, there's some kind of electric charge if I get up."

"Okay," Bart went to inspect the couch. "Do you know if it's you or the couch?"

"No."

"Alright…" Bart nodded suddenly. "It's the couch, that's good. Wide frequency, but I can speed us away. You ready to blow this Karaoke bar?"

"Ready when you are." Bart ran to the Blue Room's door and threw it open, then dashed back to Clark, grabbing him by the shoulders. A tiny buzz shook the two of them and Bart winced a little.

"Hang on, man this is gonna be bumpy!" Clark felt like someone had dug their nails into his shoulders and tugged as hard as they could to the left. An electric charge shot through both of them as Bart kicked as hard as he could against the floor, sending them flying out the door. They corkscrewed through the air for a moment before tumbling onto the floor of the hallway in a heap. Clark rolled off Bart, and found him lying on the cream carpet, dazed.

"Bart? Bart! Hey, you okay?" He got to his knees, tugging the stunned boy into a sitting position.

Bart blinked hard, running a hand through his hair, which was sticking up more than usual. "Wooh!" He smacked Clark cheerfully on the chest, though Clark could see he was still trying to catch his breath. "The whole voltage thing, not too cool on my super speed," he said, grinning ruefully.

"Are you sure you're alright?" Clark insisted, checking Bart's palms and finding tiny, star-shaped burn-marks left from the electricity.

Bart jerked his hands away, raising both eyebrows defiantly. "Fit as a fuel tank, man." The two of them got to their feet, and Bart's eyes darted up and down the hallway. "Kay we're not out of it yet. This way."

They ran down three flights, stopping countless times to avoid being seen. Clark could tell it was frustrating Bart having to go at normal speed and to be honest it was beginning to bother him too. "Bart," he whispered as they hid behind a biohazard bin, waiting for a group of doctors to go past. "If we could just get these bracelets off, I'd have my abilities back."

"Those things aren't as easy to remove as you think, Clark," Bart whispered back. "Sort of out of my league."

Clark sat in silence, watching the doctors take their sweet time going by. "I don't get it. All this security and it's this easy to get out?"

"We're not scot-free yet," Bart said, glancing over his shoulder. "Anyway I got the easy job."

The Kryptonite capsule came to his mind suddenly. Did Bart know about that? Instead, he asked, "So who got the hard job?"

"Alright go!" Bart got up and Clark followed him, keeping low as they scurried around the corner, through the door marked 'Level B Stairs' and off down the staircase. "No surveillance on the service stairs!" Bart called as their feet rattled the metal steps.

They finally hit the bottom and pushed through the door, which opened onto yet another hallway. Clark nearly jumped back at seeing a man standing just beyond the door. Bart, however, kept on going, nearly smacking into the man. He stood back and pointed to Clark. "All yours, man."

It was then that Clark realized he knew this man. "Oliver?"

Oliver Queen was wearing a leather jacket made of such dark green material, it looked almost black. He wore a pair of dark shades that utterly hid his eyes, but Clark recognized the half-hotshot, half-sober glint on his face anyway. Oliver gave him a cursory glance, scanning for injures, and then turned his attention to Bart. "How long?"

Bart consulted his watch. "Fifteen minutes."

That news seemed to bother Oliver. He reached over and grabbed Clark by the elbow, tugging him down the hallway. "We need to beat that signal to the car." Clark felt a burst of relief. They did know about the capsule.

"Get going!" Bart told him, turning back towards the stairs.

"Wait-" Clark wrenched his arm out of Oliver's grip. "Bart what about you?"

Bart tugged his jeans and hoodie off, revealing a set of white clothes much like the ones Clark wore. He grinned brightly. "Pull a Freak Friday and be you, man." He tapped two fingers to his eyebrow in a mock-salute, and tore up the stairs at the speed of light.

Clark was still standing, worrying about him, when he felt Oliver shaking his shoulder. "Clark, c'mon. Come on!" Reluctantly, Clark turned and ran after him.

Oliver and Clark took the stairs down to the next two levels without trouble. It was on the basement level they met with conflict. Two men seemed to come out of nowhere, as surprised to see their alien escaping, as Oliver and Clark were to see them. Together, Oliver and Clark fought them by hand, though Oliver came out without a scratch and one of the man managed to clip Clark across the jaw. By the time both men were out cold on the floor, Clark was becoming irritated. His strength was waning as the epinephrine wore off and he was beginning to feel exhausted again.

The problem was compounded when they heard the loud pounding of footsteps coming their way and upon running into a room that ended in a blank wall, Oliver turned to him. "Can you x-ray through the floor and count them?" Clark tried, he really did, but all he got was a shuddering, blue snapshot of the upstairs. "It's okay, it's fine," Oliver told him, indicating he should follow him to the back of the room. Oliver waited until they heard the pounding just behind the open doorway, then pulled out a particularly short arrow from his quiver, stringing it, and aiming at the doorway.

"Hold your breath!" he ordered and Clark did as he let it fly. It hit the opposite wall and green smoke began to fill the room. They waited until about ten men had collapsed in the doorway, then ran for it. After kicking, punching and otherwise forcing their way through the crowded doorway, they were finally running flat-out again, the sound of pounding of feet steadily disappearing as their pursuers were overtaken by the green cloud of oneirogen.

Oliver seemed to have mapped out their path down to the last door. For most of them, he pulled out a small device that looked like a tube of lipstick with a silver arrowhead on the end, and dissolved the locks. On one, however, he had to type in a code on the keypad.

"How did you know the code?" Clark asked as the door slid open in front of them.

Oliver glanced over his shoulder. "How do you think I got in?"

Clark followed him through the door. "Oliver, what did Bart mean he was going to be me?"

"Hopefully if they see him racing around on the cameras, they'll think he's you, at least at first. Buys us a little more time- great." They came to a sudden stop. Before them was a tall, gray wall of steal. "Lex put down the security doors already. I wondered why all the locks were up…"

Clark glanced up and down the wall. "Plan B?"

"You're not going to like it, but it's the only one I've got." Oliver pulled a syringe from his belt and approached Clark, holding it aloft, an apology showing beneath his dark shades. "Epinephrine," he explained, squirting an inch of liquid into the air. "It's the only thing to combat the meteor rock long enough to give you your strength back."

"They already gave me some of that, it didn't return my powers."

Oliver glanced at the syringe. "I think this is quite a bit more than they gave you."

"You can't penetrate my skin, though." Before Oliver could reply, Clark flipped one of the bracelets around so the meteor rocks were on the flipside of his wrist. Without hesitation, he pressed the left bracelet to his right shoulder. He inhaled sharply as the meteor rock touched his skin, waited a few moments, then pulled it away. "Do it," he said tightly, and Oliver pushed the needle into his shoulder.

"This is going to hurt," he warned, then emptied the syringe.

It did hurt. A lot. But Clark clung fast to his awareness, and with all the strength in him, he hurled himself at the steal wall. There was a loud crashing sound, a pounding in his ears followed by a rushing sensation, and he opened his eyes to find himself lying on the floor five feet on the other side of the wall. Oliver pushed through the opening, running up behind him, and pulled him to his feet.

"Nice work, Kent. Now let's get you out of the seventh circle, shall we?" He smiled for the first time.

They ran out a door with a glowing Exit sign above, and an alarm went off somewhere in the next floor up. They ran through the back lot behind Luthor Corp's shipping building and across the thin patch of manicured grass to the parking lot where, looming up ahead, Clark could see a metallic green Jeep Patriot. "Nice ride," he said as they reached it.

Oliver glanced at him, grinning. "Big time. Get in."

Clark went for the passenger door as Oliver ran around to the driver's side. Clark had no sooner pulled on the handle when, without warning, a high, earsplitting scream filled his ears. He cried out, doubling-over and falling to his hands and knees beside the car.

"Clark!" Oliver hurried back around the side of the car, heaving Clark off the ground. "C'mon, man, work with me…"

"Ah-! Can't you hear that?" Clark shouted as the raucous sound continued.

"They're trying to use a high-frequency signal to find the capsule in your body," Oliver shouted, hauling Clark into the back of the car. Clark fell over on the back bench, hands crammed over his ears, which were beginning to bleed. "Clark-" Oliver climbed in behind him, scrambling through his belt for a small device the size of a tic-tac box. "Clark, hold still, I'm going to jam the signal."

Clark managed to nod and Oliver activated the box, holding it inches from Clark's temple. A vibration filled his head, making it ache, but he tried to hold still. Above the persistent screeching, he heard Oliver curse loudly. "It's not working, I'm gonna remove it."

"Do you- ah- do you know where it is?" Clark bit out through clenched teeth.

"Yeah, it's in your head. Roll over." Clark pushed himself around so he was facing the back of the seat. Oliver went to the glove compartment and retrieved a Kryptonite swab like the one they'd used at Luthor Corp (probably something Bart snitched, Clark later thought). He swiped the back of Clark's neck with it, and he pulled out a small, silver scalpel.

"Clark," he said, carefully choosing the right spot on his neck. "This is going to hurt like hell-fire." Clark braced himself.

The scalpel pierced the back of his neck, sending a small trickle of blood onto the seat below. Oliver mopped it up distractedly with an already stained cloth, then got a pair of tweezers and dove into the incision. He found the capsule shortly and tugged causing Clark to cry out in surprise. "Sorry," Oliver muttered, jimmying the tweezers around, trying to free the capsule. "It's slipping behind the cervical artery, I'm going to- try and- I think I've got it." He moved it around a little more. Clark's teeth were beginning to hurt from clenching them together. A battered cry tore from his sore throat as Oliver gave a final tug, sitting back with a triumphant nod, the capsule clasped between the tweezers.

He opened the door by Clark's head and hurled the tweezers and capsule across the parking lot. With a loud popping sound like a firecracker, it exploded in a small cloud of green not four feet from the car. He shut the door again, turning back to Clark, who was panting, eyes still clenched. "You okay?" he asked, mopping at his incision and watching as it gradually began to heal.

"I'll…I'll survive," Clark answered breathlessly. Oliver nodded, gave Clark's back a light thwack, and clambered to the driver's seat.

"Then let's get out of here."

Oliver gunned up the engine and they roared away from Luthor Corp just ahead of the security force. He crashed right past the parking validation booth, but by the time the shocked Luthor Corp employee called in an APB on Oliver's Jeep, they were already halfway through Metropolis and miles from Lex Luthor's grasp.

- - - - -


	6. Six

- - - - -

Clark awoke, surprised to find he had passed out. He strained to lift his head, trying to read the clock at the front of the car, but only glimpsed the neon blue glow before his head fell back. He realized then what had woken him up. Oliver was dialing on his cell phone, the beeps ringing obscenely shrill over the sound of the rumbling engine.

After a pause, he spoke quietly to the person on the other end. "Hey it's me…yeah, I- I'm sorry, the jammer fritzed my signal, I had to pass a new tower till it started working." Another brief pause. "I've got him. It worked…Yeah, he's in the back, blacked out about a half-hour ago…I had to remove it…Yeah…He's in pretty bad shape." He took a deep breath and nodded. "I know. Look, I cruised around the west side for a while, trying to lose a traffic patrol, but I'm on my way. Maybe ten minutes out. You there yet?…uh-huh. Well I'll see you in a bit. You too. Bye."

Clark heard the phone snap shut, and waited for a beat before finding his voice, speaking barely over a whisper. "Who was that?"

Oliver jerked around, momentarily splitting his attention between Clark and the road. "Clark, you should lay still, kay? Don't try to move around too much."

"I can't feel my feet," Clark said sluggishly, lifting his head a little.

"Yeah some numbness is expected. Between the high adrenaline and the epinephrine, your system's still trying to catch up. Just hang in there, alright, we're almost there."

Minutes ticked by as Clark tried to stay still and ignore the numbness spreading up his legs. Finally, the muttering of asphalt turned into the popping and bucking of a gravel drive and moments later, they slowed to a stop and Oliver parked. Clark heard him get out and slam the door behind him. Then the door by Clark's head opened, accompanied by a stiff breeze that ruffled his sweaty hair.

Oliver grabbed him under the arms, tugging him out of the car slowly. "Easy, easy…" he kept saying. Clark's heels slid off the seat and hit the gravel below. He tried to stand, but Oliver wrapped his arm around his neck, bracing Clark against his shoulders instead.

It was then that Clark lifted his head, looking around for the first time as the cold air cleared a few of the cobwebs from his head. It was pitch black, but he could see the vaguest outline of trees surrounding them and a small cabin up ahead. Light suddenly erupted from the porch, flooding them in a golden glow, and the front door smacked opened.

"Clark!" Clark turned his gaze on the door and saw the silhouette of someone running towards them. He squinted in the bright light. "Clark, oh my-" it was then that he realized he knew her voice.

"Chloe?"

Chloe flung herself at them and Oliver braced his feet to keep Clark from falling. She wrapped her arms around Clark's middle, squeezing him gently but solidly. Clark managed to put his hands against her back, returning the embrace. "Chloe?" he repeated, as though he could not believe it. "How-"

Chloe made a sound like 'uht-tut-tut', putting two fingers to his mouth. "Let's get you inside first." She cast an apologetic glance at Oliver. "Let me help you."

With Oliver to hold him up and Chloe to keep them balanced, they made it up the porch steps and into the cabin. Without bothering to shut the door behind them, they guided him to a couch, letting him collapse onto it. He rolled stiffly onto his back, trying to adjust his position, but his arms felt heavy and uncooperative.

"Sorry," he mumbled as Chloe collected his limbs up, swinging him the rest of the way onto the couch.

"Don't be," she insisted, running a hasty hand across her eyes.

His eyes flicked to her face suddenly, a look of surprise and concern shadowing his face. "Chloe?" She stiffened a little, ducking her head so a length of blonde hair covered half her face. "Hey, hey-" he insisted, leaning over so he could see her face past the blonde curtain.

She looked up, tears running down her cheeks, and rolled her eyes. "We just saved you from Dr. Frankenstein's lab and I'm falling to pieces." He just smiled in an 'it's okay' sort of way, and she returned it appreciatively. "It's just- I was really, really scared I wasn't going to see you again," she said softly, her voice trailing off as the tears overtook her. "When I saw all the horrible things Lex had done to you, I knew…I was sure you'd never live through it." She blinked and two more tears slipped to the edge of her chin. She flicked them away with the back of her hand, still apologetic.

"Chloe," Clark whispered, smiling tiredly. "If there was one person who could get me out of that place…it'd be you." Chloe pursed her lips in a sad smile.

Oliver reappeared from the kitchen to their left, an air of urgency accompanying him. "Chloe I ran frequencies."

"And?"

"They sent one about an hour ago, north side."

Chloe glanced at Clark. "You said you pulled the capsule."

"There's something else in there, something I didn't know about." Chloe, alarmed, stepped back as Oliver knelt beside the couch, holding a small transmitter aloft. "It's not in his head; he would have heard it…"

"Another capsule?" Clark asked.

"Could be," Oliver responded distractedly, running the device slowly over Clark's body. Finally, he reached Clark's legs and it began to bleep steadily louder and louder. Oliver shut it off, tapping Clark's knee hard with an open hand. He glanced at him. "You feel that?"

"No." Oliver jabbed Clark's thigh instead. "Yeah, I felt that."

"Strong?"

"Not really."

Oliver nodded at Chloe. "Lex put in an anesthesia capsule."

"So-" Chloe shook her head. "He did it to slow us down. We just wait for it to wear off, right?"

"No, I read about these, Lex tested them on some dogs awhile back. That anesthesia makes it to Clark's brain, it shuts down till Lex's antidote wakes it up."

"So what do we do?"

"Remove it." Oliver looked at Clark. "Good news is you won't feel it this time." Clark smiled wryly, mostly for Chloe's benefit, and nodded. "Alright then." Oliver retrieved his scalpel and went to work.

It only took a few minutes to find it, and soon Oliver had removed it as well. They watched as Clark's knee began to heal itself and Oliver scurried from the room to analyze the capsule, just in case there were any collateral effects. Chloe watched him go, and taking a deep breath, knelt beside the couch once more.

"I think we may actually be in the clear now, Clark," she said, glancing at him. "Clark?"

His strength utterly drained, Clark apparently didn't have the energy for staying conscious anymore. Chloe checked his pulse, which was dull but present. She pulled her hand back slowly, watching him sleep. She would never adjust to seeing him like this.

Quietly, she draped a red, wool blanket over him and tiptoed off to the kitchen to speak with Oliver.

- - - - -

Lex's face was so livid, his eyes could have burned a hole right through the icy window out of which he stared. The vastness of Metropolis taunted him. Reminding him the world was big enough to hide anyone. Even an alien.

The door opened and Trently, who had evidently drawn the short straw, entered nervously. "Progress report, Mr. Luthor."

Lex kept the back of his leather office chair to Trently, eyes still on the Metropolis skyline. "Have you located his signal?"

"Uh no. No, sir."

"Any word on the perpetrator or his vehicle?"

"It's a green Jeep Pat-"

"I know what it is, has anyone spotted it yet?"

"No sir."

"And the decoy?"

"No word yet, sir. We can't seem to…locate him."

Lex's chair swiveled around and Trently almost flinched at the smile he wore. "Really."

"Uh- yes. Sir." Trently took an involuntary step back. "Do you want me to speak with Surveillance again-?"

"Why are you the one telling me this? Aren't you Care Unit?"

"Yes sir, Mr. Luthor, but the Care Unit secured Clark in the Blue Room."

"Oh, that's right. You were the ones who set him up for his interview. Which means- oh…" he sat up straight as though something had just dawned on him. "You were the ones in charge when he escaped."

Trently swallowed the lump in his throat. "With all due respect, sir, Security is responsible for him escaping the building-"

"He wasn't meant to leave the Blue Room!" Lex shouted suddenly, slamming his open hand on the desk. "Where is Lieutenant Geiger?"

Trently jumped. "At the tower, looking at the security tapes."

"Send him down," Lex snapped and Trently fled from the room.

Lex spent the next several moments taking out his frustration on an email to his press agent. There was no way they were going to keep this quiet now they had the Metropolis Police involved, but it would be good to tweak the story as much as possible. Clark could not be painted as a tortured young man on the run from an evil corporation. He needed to be a dangerous alien who "required help" from Luthor Corps' researchers.

He'd no sooner sent the notification, then Lt. Geiger strode calmly into the room. "Mr. Luthor."

"Lieutenant," Lex replied in the same cool tone. "I hope you have more than an 'I'm sorry sir' for me."

"We caught the decoy on camera, and slowed the stills."

"The decoy is officially Jay Garrick," Lex completed impatiently. Geiger carried on as though he had not heard him.

"When Clark and the decoy left the Blue Room, a surge of electricity went through both of them. Clark recovered almost immediately, but Garrick did not."

"So…it's possible Jay's one weakness is electricity," Lex drawled, rising from his chair. "Still doesn't explain to me how you let another meteor rock mutant in to see our science project."

Geiger blinked at Lex's candor, but answered smoothly, "Sir there were absolutely no traces of meteor rock in that boy's system. He's something else."

Lex paced to his window, calming a bit. "Someone susceptible to electricity."

"So it would seem." Geiger watched the back of Lex's head, waiting for him to make a decision. When Lex turned, his eyes were lit with new determination.

"Clark is excellent at disappearing, but he does have a weakness."

"Meteor rocks."

Lex shook his head, easing back into his chair. "More than that. He cares too much. Tell me, Lieutenant, you know about the electric transmitter imbedded in the Blue Room's sofa, correct?"

"As head of the Security Unit, I oversee all such installments."

"And was it standard, or Bluetooth?"

Geiger watched him. "You said a tracking signal wouldn't work on Clark's body."

"It won't. But Jay Garrick isn't Clark."

"We'd still have to track him down and activate it."

Lex just gazed pompously back. "So get to it."

- - - - -

The first thing Clark noticed when he awoke was the bizarre absence of a headache. He sat up slowly, feeling the warm wool blanket slip off his shoulders, and blinked blearily around him. Judging by the lighting, it was late morning. Golden rays spilled through the cabin's windows, decorating the wood floor and casting short, dark shadows.

Clark threw his feet over the side of the couch, and stood just as Chloe came around the corner, a mug of coffee steaming in her hand. "Hey, you!" she said brightly.

Clark felt a sudden surge of energy shoot up his back and his knees buckled. "Woah, woah-" Chloe hastily set her mug down on a small table and ran to him, catching him before the floor did. "Easy, you've got a little bit of rehab ahead of you, Mr. Kent."

"Sorry," he said distractedly, glancing down at his hands. "Chloe…?" She followed his gaze and nodded as he rubbed his wrists.

"Yeah, we removed the bracelets last night, while you were out." She cringed, checking his hands. "Believe me you didn't want to be conscious for that. Lex constructed some serious, tough alloy for those things, a la adamanthium. Had to melt through it with boiled red meteor rock." He stared at her. "Yeah, I know, it's whacked, but that's why you were better off unconscious for it, I don't even want to know what it might have done to you. Looks like you've healed over nicely, though." She pressed her cool fingertips to his wrist, then rose and went to retrieve her coffee.

"You should know what red K does to me."

"Yeah, but not boiled, absorbed in your-" she paused, the lip of her mug inches away from her mouth. "What's red K?"

He blinked at her. "Kryptonite, Chloe."

"Uh…okay." She sat down beside him. "I'm all ears."

He shook his head, running tired hands through his hair and staring out the window. "So what else has everyone forgotten?"

"Clark?" She touched his shoulder but he did not turn.

"I haven't told everything about what happened in Luthor Corp." He glanced at her and she was watching him apprehensively. "About my memory."

Chloe nodded suddenly. "Your dad called me the other day. Said during his visit you exhibited some amnesia. He didn't expound, seemed a little zoned out."

"Yeah, the whole thing was pretty tough on him and my mom."

"So…what all can't you remember? Think of me as your Webster's, ask me anything."

He tried to smile at her enthusiasm. "I think that would prove to be more tedious than you think."

"What's tedious?" Clark and Chloe both looked up to see Oliver standing in the doorway. His hair was a mess, but from stress, not sleep. He crunched the Cola can he was holding and made a swift toss to the trash bin.

"Clark's memory," Chloe explained.

"Oh right. I was hoping that might reverse itself when we removed the meteor rocks."

"Afraid not," Clark said.

"What'd you lose? Are we talking like, the last couple weeks or a whole year?"

Clark sat back on the couch, leaning against the arm. "Like…I have a whole separate set of memories that are mostly inconsistent with this reality."

"Phantom memories?" Chloe glanced at Oliver. "Like what?"

How was he supposed to recap his whole life to Chloe as though it never actually happened? Clark decided to skip the specifics. "In the memories I have, my abilities, my origins, they're a secret." He nodded at Chloe and Oliver. "You two know, my parents of course, but mostly, everyone thinks I'm a normal guy who helps with the family farm and went to Smallville High."

"And you think this…parallel memories are the product of trauma, or-" Chloe cleared her throat uncomfortably. "Do you think they're real?"

"Honestly? I really don't know what I'm supposed to think."

Chloe nodded, trying to be understanding, though the statement clearly bothered her. "I'll admit there are times when life can feel it's not supposed to be like this, like there was an alternate reality we were meant to have, but…it's not true, Clark."

"Don't, Chloe. I've had more than enough psychoanalyses for one lifetime." Clark got off the couch suddenly and paced to the window.

Oliver leaned against the doorway, crossing his arms. "What do you think caused this?"

"Lex thinks it was some radiation treatment he gave me a few nights ago," Clark responded distantly.

Chloe set her mug on the table with a smack. "I told him!" she said furiously to Oliver. "I told Lex that treatment was too dangerous, that it'd result in consequences he didn't realize." Oliver just nodded at her.

"No offense, Chloe, but why would a person like Lex Luthor listen to you?" Clark asked.

Oliver responded before Chloe could. "Chloe's sort of unofficial CEO of the 'Free Clark Kent' campaign. She's been try to dig dirt up on The Destination Project for over a year."

"Unfortunately when you fly mostly solo, you do the digging with a trowel instead of a backhoe," Chloe muttered into her palms.

The corner of Oliver's mouth twitched as he continued, "One of her supposed 'in-depth status reports' got her into Luthor Corp where she tried to stop Lex the first time he did the radiation treatment. Broke into the clean room and everything. She got caught in the beams, but at least it made the news."

Clark turned around for the first time, suddenly alarmed. "You got caught in the beams?"

Chloe glanced distractedly up at him and shrugged. "Meteor rock is your Achilles' heal, Clark, not mine. No harm, no fowl. Unfortunately, it appears my stunt didn't keep Lex from going ahead with the treatment."

"No," Clark granted, and came to stand closer to the couch. "But thank you."

She smiled, and he thought he saw a few tears glistening in her eyes, but before he was certain, she blinked, and the shimmer was gone. "So the question is, how do we-"

Chloe was cut off as a sudden gust of wind whipped through the living room. The wool blanket went flying over the back of the couch and Chloe's mug tipped off the table and went streaking towards the floor. Instead of hearing a crash, however, they saw a young man in a red jacket and sweats suddenly appear by the table, holding the coffee mug in one hand and the strap of his backpack in the other.

"Thanks, Bart," Chloe said dryly as he handed her the mug.

Clark smiled. "Glad to see you in one piece."

"Back atcha, dude. Nice to see you on your feet again."

"Thanks to you."

Bart shrugged, vanished, and reappeared, eating a piece of toast. Mouth still full, he said, "Don't mention it. Hey uh- who's Kashi bar did I just eat?" He glanced over his shoulder and saw that Oliver was giving him raised eyebrows. "Sorry man, I'll get you a new one, swear. Oh! Speaking of new…" he slid his backpack off and unzipped the largest compartment. "I dropped by your house this morning, Clark."

"Bart," Oliver said sternly. "We agreed. We don't want to lead Lex's goons to the Kents. The less they know the better."

"Though I'm sure Mr. and Mrs. Kent are glad to know their son's okay," Chloe added, seeing the poorly hidden gratitude on Clark's face.

Oliver looked at her, then Clark, and sighed. "Yeah okay. So what's in the bag, man?"

"Hang on a sec, zipper's stuck…" Bart gave it a mighty jerk and heard fabric tearing. He winced.

"You can replace it when you go to get me a new Kashi bar," Oliver told him.

Bart muttered something along the lines of 'yeah, you know whatever', and opened the backpack. He pulled from it a pile of clothes and gave them to Clark. Clark unfolded a pair of jeans, a blue t-shirt and his red jacket. Bart also handed him a pair of socks and some old, brown work shoes Clark recognized as his as well.

"Thought you'd like to get out of those scrubs into some real clothes," Bart told him. "Plus, no offense stretch, but the white on white? Makes you look like a dentist or something."

Clark laughed and nodded. "Thanks, Bart. You're the man."

Bart snapped his fingers and pointed at Oliver. "Hear that, Queeny? Huh?"

"Yeah, yeah, okay-" Oliver said, and then in mock-importance, "And it's Oliver or Mr. Queen when you're in my place, Impulse."

Bart crossed his arms. "Man no way this is a 'place'. It's barely even a 'house'."

Smiling brightly, Chloe stood from the couch, and tapped Clark on the elbow, pointing down the hallway. "Bathroom's to the left."

Clark grinned and set off down the hall, the sound of Chloe trying to break up Bart and Oliver's tiff following him. He went into the bathroom, set the clothes and shoes neatly on the counter, and examined his reflection in the dusty mirror.

He looked how he remembered looking. A little more tired, a slightly more haunted look about his eyes, but he assumed that would go away once the Kryptonite did. True, the bracelets were gone, but after being exposed for so long, it seemed like the meteor rocks didn't want to let go of him. He could sense them like a bad taste in his mouth.

Part of him found the familiarity of his face comforting. He was still the same person. On the other hand, it meant that this alternate reality was becoming more and more likely. He was beginning to realize that he had no proof what he thought was real even existed. Yet memories of what the phantom had done in his head clung to him, insisting he couldn't accept this new reality.

Clark got undressed, pulled on his jeans, the watch he found in his jeans' pocket, and his socks. Then he grabbed his shirt and tugged it over his head. Instantly the smell of lemon detergent filled him, and he felt like he was at home, as a boy, resting his elbows on the stepstool and watching Martha put pillowcases on the clothing line. And he saw the small, cheerful face of Lara too. "_Calark! You home!"_

He laced up his shoes, as the part of him that wanted to believe grew just a little bit bigger.

- - - - -


	7. Seven

- - - - -

The clacking of dishes was the only sound in the whole house. Martha stood by the sink, watching, almost mesmerized, as warm water poured down the lunch plates. Her thoughts were on Clark; on the news she and Jonathan had received from Luthor Corp that he'd disappeared, and they expected his parents' cooperation in returning him, should they see him. After a long night of worry, Bart Allan, of all people, had sped back through the Kent's door with hasty news.

She could remember Clark's whereabouts spilling from Bart in one, quick breath. She could still hear her heart pounding in her chest with inexpressible relief as he spoke. Finally, he'd asked for some of Clark's old clothes, promised he and his "mates" would take good care of their son, and just like that, he was gone again.

Martha sighed deeply, removing the more-than-clean plate from the sink, and reaching for a cup instead. Her hand hesitated. Had she forgotten something? She took a step back from the sink, eyes bouncing around the kitchen. Something was…wrong. She had often felt this way; as though Clark was supposed to be in the kitchen with her. But she supposed she was just so used to his presence and her mind refused to let her forget that.

She turned and walked back to the sink, reaching for the dishes once more. Her hand froze. Two cups…two plates. Her and Clark. _No, me and Jonathan. _What was wrong with her? A chill went down her spine as something occurred to her like a slap in the face. She dried her hands hastily on a dishtowel, and ran from the kitchen.

"Lara? Sweetheart?" Martha checked the living room, but found only an abandoned tower of wooden blocks. She went to Lara's bedroom (or rather the corner of Clark's room they'd cleared for Lara's crib) but she wasn't there either. By the time she had scoured every other room in the house, as well as the front porch and back yard, Martha was beginning to panic. Heart hammering in her chest, she ran to the barn, from whence the sound of Jonathan's circle-saw was coming.

"Jonathan!" she shouted over the screeching of the saw, and he quickly turned it off, alarmed at Martha's flushed face and anxious eyes. "Where's Lara, do you know where she is?"

He slipped his goggles off. "Isn't she in the house?"

"No, I can't find her anywhere!"

"Okay, calm down." He crossed the straw-covered floor and took her by the elbows. "Where did you see her last?"

"In the living room, she was- she was playing with her blocks, but I looked there and-"

"Okay, okay. I'll help you look."

She took a shuddering breath, stamping her foot lightly. "I wasn't watching her; I forgot she was in there."

"I know- it happens. Remember when Clark was five and he-"

"Clark wasn't vulnerable," Martha insisted despairingly.

Jonathan raised an amused eyebrow. "Did that stop us from treating him like he was?" She shrugged half-heartedly, and he smiled, giving her a gentle nudge towards the door. "Alright now, where all did you check?"

It took them all of ten minutes to locate their daughter. She was found just outside the west cow field, prodding a cantankerous toad with a gnarled stick. "Fly!" she instead, nudging him. "Fly, foggy, fly!"

"Oh Lara," Jonathan sighed, calling over his shoulder, "Over here, Martha!"

Lara looked up. "Daddy a foggy fly!" she complained, jabbing the toad yet again.

"Baby, froggies don't fly, they hop." She looked back at the toad, uncertain. Jonathan scooped her up in his arms. "Aw Lara, you got mud all over your pretty socks."

Lara picked at her mud-soaked ruffle socks. "Eww, a mud on an a sock."

Martha ran up then, taking her from Jonathan after a relieved thanks, then went inside to give her a bath. Jonathan finished with his morning work, and then came in for a break an hour later. Martha was sitting at the kitchen counter, eyes unfocussed, and thoughts elsewhere. She looked up when he shut the door behind him and smiled vaguely. "Lara's upstairs playing with Clark's toy cars; I thought it'd be okay."

"I don't think Clark will mind," Jonathan said, sitting down next to her. "Something on your mind?"

Martha folded her hands on the countertop and swallowed hard. "I…forgot about my daughter."

"Martha," Jonathan said almost sternly. "You lost track of time. This isn't your fault, it happens."

"Jonathan- you don't understand," she insisted. "I was standing in the kitchen and for this brief moment, I was positive I didn't have a daughter. That it was just Clark. I found myself wondering why he wasn't home yet." She kneaded her forehead. "I must be losing my mind."

"Hey." Jonathan redirected her attention to him. "You're tired, I know that. But Clark's safe now. He's miles from Lex Luthor's reach, away from the meteor rocks…he's going to be okay." And his enthusiasm was enough to make Martha nod and, after a moment, smile.

- - - - -

"Presto-chango!" Chloe cried as Clark came striding up the hallway, in full red-and-blue attire.

Bart hooted loudly. "Now there's the handsome devil I remember."

Clark just grinned, holding up the ball of white clothes he'd worn at Luthor Corp. "Oliver, what should I do with these?"

"Oh-" Chloe got up, taking the laundry from him. "I'll take care of that." Cheerfully, she trooped outside, and dumped the clothes into a fire pit located a little ways to the left of the front porch. "Bart!" She called over her shoulder, "Light?"

Bart whipped through the kitchen and out the door, lighter outstretched. Chloe doused the clothes with a small bottle of alcohol she pulled from her jacket pocket (probably for this very occasion, Clark thought), and without any further ceremony, she touched the lighter to the edge of the sodden clothes, and her and Bart stepped back and let them burn. Clark looked on through the living room window as the flames instantly rose several feet, then began to settle down. Chloe and Bart returned, looking proud of themselves.

"Track that set of rags, Lex," Chloe said triumphantly.

Clark smiled and turned his attention to Oliver who'd been pouring over a pile of boring-looking documents all this time. "What's this?" Clark asked, lifting the corner of the page Oliver was currently reading.

"Progress reports," he replied. "Luthor Corp's." Clark, suddenly intrigued, took one of the pages and began reading.

_March 18th 2007_

_The finality of the latest Destination test reports are currently disputed, regarding minute and technical details, and have therefore been delayed momentarily till firm, constructive evidence can be filed. Until that time, Luthor Corp and associates are pleased to announce that the attempts to produce and utilize a separate element of the DMD36 minerals have been a complete success. Our skilled scientists have discovered that it is not only diverse in shade (transformed upon the induction of light and sound, as well as exposure to hydrochloric and sulfuric acids to a dim sangria) but in affect on the Destination Project. (For full geological survey, please see section E page 14 of this report.)_

Clark, mind buzzing angrily, slapped the page back on the desk causing Oliver to glance up at him. He clenched his jaw. "In English, that says they created red K and blindly tested it on me."

"And," Oliver added as though he hadn't noticed Clark's righteous indignation, "it's one of twelve progress reports so far that begin with an excuse as to why they can't release your status yet."

Clark re-read the first line and realized that the "Destination test reports" simply meant "Clark's health". So Lex really was hiding everything from the public. Brutal tests weren't good for the corporation's rep.

"I have to stop this," Clark said firmly. "People need to know the truth about what Lex has been doing with me and the meteor rocks."

Chloe looked like she was about to speak, but Oliver spared her from having to say what he knew she was thinking. "Clark, you need to understand something. Yes, there are people who would be enraged if they knew what Lex was really doing, but there are also people…" he paused here, leaning forward, eyes fixing on Clark's in a way that made him feel uneasy. "There are people who are afraid."

"Of Luthor Corp?"

"Of you." Despite Oliver's candor, Clark could tell he hated to be saying this. "There are magazine articles, celebrities, newspapers, websites, millions and millions of people following the popular opinion of Lex Luthor; that Clark Kent may have been raised by kind, Kansas farmers, but…you are an alien. We can learn from you, improve technology and medical research through you, and something Lex has quietly planted into the back of everyone's minds, we must be protected from you."

Clark shook his head. "But now that I've broken out of Luthor Corp, that sends a different message, doesn't it? That I had to get away."

"Not the message you were hoping to send," Bart broke in and handed Clark a rolled-up copy of the Daily Planet, wincing a little. "Sorry man."

**LUTHOR CORPS' ALIEN (C.L.A.R.K.) DISAPEARS**

The article was about how Clark had sustained a minor injury earlier that day during a physical exam and wasn't feeling well afterwards. When visited by his physician later that evening, in an inexplicable fit of rage, Clark had rushed the doctor and used his powers to escape Luthor Corp's facility. They went on to quote Lex as saying that Clark is of course, "known to be a fine young man, but he isn't himself just now." Lex urged anyone who knew of his whereabouts to report it to Luthor Corp so they might get him the treatments he required before any "accidents that both Luthor Corp and Clark will sorely regret" occurred.

Clark's stomach churned. He felt like he had when he'd first read that brochure. Like the air around him was swimming, encroaching on him, siphoning off his options. The whole world was on alert right now, peeking between blinds, afraid the alien might come after them. The poor, "fine young man" who had somehow lost his marbles while in Luthor Corp's "care". It made him sick.

He couldn't think of a way to verbalize all this, so instead he pointed to the headline again. "Why does it put my name down like an acronym?"

Chloe wrinkled her nose, taking the paper from him. "Just one of Lex's many ways to discredit you as an actual being. Certainty for Life and Relief for Kansas. It doesn't even roll off the tongue," she scoffed, tossing the paper disgustedly back onto the table.

"So the world thinks I'm a monster," Clark said after a long pause.

Chloe slid into the chair next to him, eyebrows knit in concern. "Clark…if the world could only see you as you are, they could never think that." And seeing no way to improve upon this conversation, no words that would really make him feel better, Chloe chose to segue. "What we need to do right now is figure out how you got this whopping dose of amnesia, and reverse it."

"Yeah," Clark replied half-heartedly. Suddenly he wanted nothing more than to wake up from this "reality" and return to his real life. He didn't want those fake memories back.

"Maybe we should start by gathering data on that radiation treatment," Oliver suggested, setting his pen down beside the stack of documents. "I've already started on the-"

"Dude!" Bart exclaimed, shooting like a cannon out of his chair. "Why is it every time we need to get things done the first plan of 'action' you think of is to study?"

"Groundwork first, Impulse, action comes after we have a map."

"That's bogus man, you know it," Bart insisted, and Clark realized he wasn't being flippant. His eyes were locked determinedly on Oliver's. "Are you not hearing this? Man Clark's memory's been replaced with phony info, he's working blind."

"How do you expect us to return him to normal without knowing what caused this."

"We get in there, we look around, we take what we need to fix him."

"No. No, we don't just get in, we go at it intelligently."

"If you want to spin your wheels reading about what Lex has been up to, fine!" Bart smacked the stack of documents in front of Oliver, sending a bunch flying. "But you've been pouring over this stuff for weeks, nothing! When are you going to stop playing businessman and act like a real hero?"

Oliver stood up, livid, aiming a finger at Bart's chest. "You shut your mouth about things you understand."

"Oh I understand." Bart laughed humorously. "I get it, kay, you're still sore. But quit moping and see that there's still people out here who need you taking action again. You can't afford to keep playing love's labor lost!"

"Bart." Chloe stood up, looking anxiously at Oliver and grabbed Bart's elbow but he jerked it out of her grip, ignoring her imploring tone.

"You don't think Chloe misses her too?" he snapped. "Yeah, course she does. But she's still got her head in the game, Oliver, she's got her priorities straight. Clark's probably Metropolis' last chance and you're screwing it up! Quit acting like you're the only one who's lost something!"

Bart's reflexes were better than anyone's, but his mind was on his own rage. Oliver struck him soundly across the face, sending him staggering a few feet to the side where he slipped to his hands and knees, clutching the side of his face.

"Oliver!" Chloe shouted as Clark ran to check on Bart.

"I'm fine- I'm okay!" Bart told him angrily, still on the floor, pulling himself together. Clark turned around and saw horror on Oliver's face. He looked like he was about to help Bart up, but turned around instead and headed for the door, slamming it behind him.

Clark, despite the boy's protests, helped Bart to his feet. silence hung between the three of them like a velvet curtain. At last Clark could not hold back his gnawing curiosity any longer. "Who does Oliver miss, Bart?"

Bart still seemed to be trying to hold himself together, staring firmly at the front door as though daring Oliver to walk back inside. Chloe could see at a glance that he wasn't going to explain. "Oliver had uh…a girlfriend. Serious. I think he would have probably married her." She smiled a little, but he could tell she only did it to fight her own emotions. "She uh, she got caught up in helping me with an investigation of a European guy called Lyon. He owned a club, and we had a hunch he was into some shady stuff with a few of the dancers. Turns out we were right." Chloe took a deep breath. "She disappeared and I panicked and called Oliver. He tried to go after her, but rushed in without checking some of his facts and ended up in the wrong building." She shrugged, now unable to hold back the tears. "It's been over a year, but Ollie's still not over it, you know?"

Clark was trying to process all this and fight the growing dread that the situation sounded familiar. "Wait…this guy Lyon's club. The Windgate?"

"You remember that? Do you- do you remember Lois?"

It felt like someone had tipped a bucket of cold water down his back. Clark stumbled into a chair and sat down. "Lois is…no. No, wait-"

Chloe knelt beside his chair. "I'm sorry, Clark."

"No, Chloe, we saved her, you and me," Clark insisted, grabbing her shoulder. "Don't you remember that? We got to her before Lyon could get away."

"Clark, no," Chloe whispered. "Lois disappeared and her body turned up in Europe days later." He began to shake his head as she spoke. "I told you about this-" Clark jumped out of his chair and went to the window. Chloe stared helplessly at his back. "I don't know what you remember, but Lois died over a year ago."

"This isn't right, Chloe."

"Clark!" She stood up, fresh tears spilling down her cheeks. Bart watched her uneasily. "Lois is dead. Okay? I don't know what Lex did to you, but she's gone, don't you remember? I came to Luthor Corp and told you, you had that same look; you couldn't believe it. I had to show you the photos! Why can't you- what happened in there that you can't-" her voice cut off and she sank into the chair he'd just vacated, looking miserable.

Clark turned, saw her tears and could no longer wrap himself up in disbelief. Maybe this wasn't real, but Chloe certainly thought it was. He got down next to her chair and gave her a hug. "I'm sorry," he murmured as she pulled back, pressing her fingertips to her tear-stained cheeks. "I don't…I don't remember. But I'm willing to go on the belief that this is real until I know otherwise, okay? Maybe you're right, Chloe," he added, glancing at Bart. "Maybe you're all right and it's the radiation treatment that gave me all these fake memories, but I have to know for sure. This is my life."

"I know," Chloe said, barely audible. "What do you want us to do?"

"I don't want you or Bart or anyone going any deeper in this than you have to."

"Not flying solo on this one Kent," Bart broke in, "no way."

"Where are you even going to start?"

Clark sighed, staring down at the floor. "I don't know. Everything's different."

"Not everything."

"Mostly everything. I don't even have a little sister in my memories."

Chloe's eyes widened just a little. "You don't…remember Lara?" Again, Clark just shook his head, feeling the weight of impossibility becoming heavier.

"I keep thinking something will jump out at me as being completely different from what I remember; give me a clue for where to start looking for answers."

"Well not remembering a little sister is pretty big."

"No, Oliver's right. I can't get my parents involved."

"Well who else knew your secret?" Chloe pressed. "In the memories you have?"

"Uh…you, my parents, Bart, Oliver, AC and Vincent-"

"AC?" Bart interjected. "What's that?"

"Arthur Curry, you know-" one glance at Bart's face told Clark that he didn't know. "So- wait, you and Oliver are on your own?"

"Yeah man, the only reason I met Oliver is cause I heard the Green Arrow was on the prowl to bust my buddy Clark out of Luthor Corp penitentiary."

Clark went on, voice rising to an impatient, high-pitch tone. "Did I grow up in Smallville? Go to Smallville High?"

"Yes to both," Chloe replied.

"Play football?"

"Yeah, some."

"Did I save Lex's life?"

"On Loeb Bridge."

His mind went to Lara again. "So I have a sister…did I take red K and run away to Metropolis four years ago?"

"Okay, Clark what's with this red K?"

"I told you, Kryptonite."

"Right, right that's what you call meteor rocks." Chloe took a deep breath, trying to keep her thoughts clear.

Clark suddenly lost the desire to hassle her with all his questions. "Lana knows," he said then, the thought only just occurring to him, and filling him with a strange mixture of relief and fear. "I wonder what she thought; hearing on TV that Clark Kent was an alien." He looked at Chloe, and saw only that familiar confusion. "She does know, doesn't she?"

Chloe shook her head slowly. "I don't know. Who's Lana?"

Clark stared at her. "Lana Lang, Chloe." The words landed on dead air. He set his jaw. "That's where I'll start then."

"What do you mean?"

"Lana's one of your best friends, Chloe, I have to know why you don't even know her name." Clark stood out of his chair. "Can I borrow your laptop?"

"The internet's not very good out here," Chloe told him, still anxious. "But listen, Clark, I can go down to the library-"

"Or I could go to the library," Bart broke in suddenly. "I'll be there and back in no time. No seriously, man, no time."

"I'm the only one who knows what I'm looking for," Clark replied, shaking his head. "I have to go."

"Clark you can't-"

"I feel fine, Chloe."

"Yes but half of Metropolis is looking for you! What if you end up back at Luthor Corp?"

"I have a huge advantage, now that I don't have to keep my powers hidden." Clark smiled a little, giving her shoulder a squeeze. She couldn't seem to return the smile, but looked up at him all the same. "First sign of trouble, I bolt faster than a speeding bullet. Promise."

"You be careful," she said, almost grudgingly. And before Clark realized what she was doing, she rose onto her tiptoes and kissed him.

Clark blinked. "What was that for?"

"That's for not calling it quits at Luthor Corp. Clark I don't know what I'd do without you." Did Chloe think he was going to die? He wasn't used to her being so candid with him, not when it came to her feelings.

But rather than try to figure out this newest anomaly, Clark let go of her shoulder, nodded to Bart and disappeared in a gust of wind.

- - - - -


	8. Eight

- - - - -

Oliver was sitting on the railing of the front porch, staring off into the skyline, when a breeze brushed past that nearly tipped him onto the ground below. He turned around quickly and saw the front door was standing open. "Chloe?" he called and Chloe came to the door, closing it behind her. "Where's Bart going?"

"That uh…wasn't Bart."

Oliver hopped off the railing. "What the h-"

"Clark's perfectly capable of taking care of himself."

"Metropolis is practically wired, and he's taking a run to the grocery store?"

"He's going to the library, to look up an old friend. Name's Lana Lang, you know her?" Oliver shook his head. "Well Clark does. He thinks I do too." She pressed her palms to her forehead. "This is such a disaster, what did Lex do to him?" Oliver didn't reply. "He remembers me, you, Bart, and yet he thinks he doesn't have a sister and that meteor rocks are called Kryptonite. It's insane."

"I called my contact at the Planet. They're going to send me last week's progress reports."

Chloe looked at him. "Oliver…you know those reports are garbage. We need the real reports, the scientific stats Clark's real doctors kept."

"I'm not sending anyone into Luthor Corp- not even Bart," he added when Chloe opened her mouth to argue. "This is the only safe way to go."

"Sometimes, to get things done, you have to be unsafe."

He glanced at her then looked away, unsmiling. "You sound like Bart."

"He shouldn't have said the things he did-"

"But he has a point," Oliver finished. "Right?" Chloe just shrugged. "It's so weird," he said after a pause. "It's like- since we picked Clark up, she's been back on my mind. Like she's still around, or like…like she's supposed to be around, you know?"

"Yeah. I felt that way for awhile too. But she'd want us to let her go, Ollie." Oliver smiled in spite of himself at Lois' nickname for him.

The door swung open suddenly, and they turned around. Bart stood hesitantly, scuffing his sneakers on the welcome mat, avoiding Oliver's gaze. "Hey uh…anyone hungry?" he said, grinning half-heartedly as though he'd just told a corny joke.

Oliver swallowed, a pained expression on his face. "Listen-"

Bart held up both hands. "Apologies are for saps, man." Oliver shut his mouth again and Bart, after a moment, continued, "…but yeah. It's cool, Mr. Arrow." He smirked, and Chloe watched in relief as Oliver flashed a genuine smile.

"I could go for some Chinese take-out," she said. "Whatever looks good."

"Yeah, ditto," Oliver agreed.

Bart tutted loudly. "Forget you two, I'm getting sushi." And he disappeared.

- - - - -

Clark had to keep reminding himself to not to glance around nervously. The less attention he drew, the better. Naturally, Chloe was right about going to Metropolis being a bad idea, so he'd decided to run several miles outside Metropolis to a small town called Kisco. The library was tiny, but the computers had internet.

He had tried seven different search engines, and came up with over three hundred results each time. He searched for Smallville addresses and came up dry, which didn't surprise him. If Lana had lived in Smallville, she would have gone to Smallville High and Chloe would at least know her name. So he checked Metropolis. Zip.

"'scuse me?" Clark jumped and turned around to see a young girl, probably about twelve or so, standing next to his desk. She wore a purple sweater-jacket and had pulled the hood up so far, he could only see her mouth and chin. "Are you using that?" She pointed to a book of road atlases his elbows had been resting on.

"Oh, uh-" he picked it up and handed it to her. "No, it was here when I sat down."

"Thanks."

"You know if you need help looking for directions," he tapped the monitor, "you could borrow this and go to Map Quest."

"Oh I can't, thanks."

"I can show you how to use it," he said smilingly. He didn't know why, but something about this little girl made him want to talk to her. Maybe he was just missing Lara.

"It's not that, I just…I broke a computer once."

"I see. Well I would be happy to-"

"No thanks," she said quickly, taking a few steps back. "I can't. I have to go."

"I'm sorry," he replied, feeling badly. His eyes darted around the library which was so small, he could see all the way around it from where he was sitting. They were some of the only people there. "Where are your parents?" No sooner had he said it then he wished he had not. She swallowed hard, backing up another step. "Never mind," he corrected. "It's okay, you don't have to-"

"My dad's at a jewelry store," she said suddenly, almost defensively. "He's selling some stuff of my grandmother's so we can buy a house."

Clark smiled. "That's great- you're getting a new house?"

She nodded. "He just asked me to hang around for a little while." She seemed to relax a little and leaned on the desk, resting her chin on her hands and staring at the computer screen. "So what're you doing?"

"Uh-" he turned back to the monitor. "I'm trying to find a friend of mine from school."

"What's her name?"

"Lana Lang."

The girl shrugged. "Did you try Google?"

"Yeah, I just keep getting too many results. I thought she might be in Metropolis, but-"

"What did you search for?" She cut in, taking the mouse from under his hand.

"Just 'Lana Lang'," he said, suppressing a smile as she commandeered the keyboard as well.

She hummed under her breath as they waited for the page to load, and then typed "Metropolis/KS Lana" in the search box. **Results 1 - 7 of about 11 for Metropolis/KS Lana. (0.89 seconds). **Looking pleased with herself, the girl hopped back from the computer.

"Wow, thank you," Clark said. "You're a real pro at this, huh?"

She shrugged, blushing beneath her hood. "It's a gift." She scurried away.

Clark scrolled down the page. The first several results were no good; they all referred to a company in Metropolis called Lana, Beck and Li Septic Co. However, the fourth result on the page referenced a public school on the west side of Metropolis. He clicked the link and found a short article about a new art program opening at Westside Primary School. There was a picture at the bottom of the page.

_Students gather with their new teacher (left to right): Shannon, Blake, Chase, Susana, Troy, Leah and Miss Lana_. Clark clicked the enlarged shot of the photo. To the far right of the picture, positioned on her knees beside the students, a familiar face smiled back at him. "Lana."

_CRASH!_

Clark jumped out of his chair and turned to see that the front window of the library had completely shattered. His first thought was that someone was shooting at him until he realized he would have heard a gunshot. He went carefully to the front of the library where a stern-looking librarian was gesturing frantically at the girl in the purple jacket.

"You were standing by the window, young lady. Tell me the truth."

"I don't know-"

"You don't know what happened? I'll tell you. You broke a very expensive storm window and I want to know why."

The girl shook her head vehemently, and her hood slid off. Clark's mouth nearly fell open. "Maddie?" The girl spun and sure enough, it was the same face that he'd seen staring out her grandmother's pickup so long ago. She locked eyes with Clark for just a moment and bolted. "Maddie, wait!" Clark took off after her, ignoring the librarian's warning to look out for broken glass. He ran out the front door and found the sidewalk disserted. He turned to the left, then the right and finally x-rayed through the building across the street just in time to see her dart around the corner into an alley. A Met U student with an armload of books glanced through the unbroken library window just in time to see Clark vanish from the sidewalk.

"Maddie, please wait!" He called, going at normal speed now, so he didn't terrify her more than he already had. "I know about your powers." She came to a sudden halt beside a rusty dumpster, and slowly turned around.

"What do you want?" she demanded, and he saw that her knees were shaking.

"I'm not going to hurt you, Maddie-"

"How do you know my name, who are you?"

"My name's Clark. Clark Kent."

Maddie stared at him for a moment, then her eyes widened. "The…" she took a few steps back.

"Maddie," Clark pleaded, "I'm not- I'm not dangerous. I know you've heard about my powers and everything-"

"You're an alien," she said warily.

"Yes, but I grew up like a normal kid, I just- I had powers, like you do."

"I don't know what you mean."

"Yeah, you do. Maddie, it's okay-" he took a few steps forward, hand outstretched.

"Stay away!" she screamed and the face of Clark's watch shattered, sprinkling the pavement with tiny shards. She stared at the sparkling mess, and tears welled up in her eyes.

"It's okay," he assured her, "don't worry about it."

"Just go! I can't control it anymore," she cried. "Tyler wants me to use it more and more and I can't control it." Clark got the impression she was talking more to herself than him. "And now it happens when I'm not even angry, it happens when I'm excited or scared, and-" she cut off, attention turning back to Clark.

"I can help you." He knelt down so he looked like less of a threat, hand still outstretched. "I can help you if you'll let me."

"I have to go wait for Tyler," she sniffled, glancing over her shoulder as a tear struck her cheek.

"Is your dad selling the diamonds, Maddie?" She just looked at him. "You didn't want him to, he promised he wouldn't, but he went back on that promise. He kept them."

A spark lit in her eyes. "He's…gonna buy us a house."

"But this isn't how you wanted to get it, is it? Please. Please let me help you."

She shook her head. "No…no you can't." She ran pell-mell for the end of the alley and no matter how many times he called after her, she kept right on going until she disappeared around the corner. Clark followed her for awhile, tracking her from a distance down a few short alleys and across some deserted streets. Then she meandered her way back to the library, avoiding actually going inside, and opting to hide around back. Clark thought about trying to talk to her again, but a crowd had gathered, listening raptly as a young man with dreadlocks imparted his tale of the "guy in the red jacket who disappeared- poof! -into thin air." Had someone in the crowd glanced up at the right moment, they may have seen the man in the red jacket, standing across the street, looking on gloomily, trying to make up his mind. But they didn't get the chance. Clark disappeared once more, leaving Maddie and her troubles behind him.

- - - - -

The long, rain-spattered sidewalk seemed to stretch for miles between the impressive-looking Victorian houses. Clark's breath hung before him in a mist, and he stuffed his hands in his pockets. 228, 227, 226, 225...224. According to the secretary at the primary school, this was where Lana lived. He felt his pulse quicken as he mounted the white, slippery steps that led to a faded gray porch. What if's flooded his head, and before they could talk him out of it, he wrapped smartly on the door. Only then did he notice the golden-framed doorbell. He pressed that as well.

There was a long pause during which he suppressed the urge to use his hearing or x-ray vision through the walls. He didn't want to be caught off-guard when she suddenly opened the door. Finally, the doorknob turned, and the bleached-white door swung inwards.

"May I help you?"

Clark stared. "Jason?"

Jason Teague, dressed in blue jeans and a Metropolis Sharks t-shirt, blinked politely back at him. "Do I know you?"

"I'm uh…my name is Clark. I was told this is where Lana Lang lives?"

He put his hands on the doorway. "Clark who?"

"Is she here?"

Jason ground his molars in thought, glanced over his shoulder, then turned from the doorway. "Lana, baby, someone to see you."

Moments later, Clark heard footsteps on carpeted stairs, and a familiar face appeared beyond the doorway. Jason stepped back from the door to let her through. "Yes?" she said smilingly to Clark, "May I help you?"

Clark's breath catch in his chest. She looked…different. But not in an unfamiliar way, on the contrary, it was like seeing a flashback. Lana Lang, the girl next-door, in her white blouse and pink camisole, her beaded sandals and her silver hairclips.

"My name's Clark." There was a long pause during which not a flicker of recognition crossed her face. He realized he had no idea what to say to her. "I uh, I went to Smallville High."

"Oh-" she glanced at Jason. "Did you know my mother?"

He thought about that. "Yeah," he lied. "Laura Lang."

She smiled her brilliant, white smile, but Jason was less impressed. "Seem awfully young to know Lana's mom from school."

"I didn't go to school with her," Clark cut in hastily, "I uh…well, I knew of her. Cause she went to Smallville High too." There was another uncomfortable pause, and then Clark went on, "I had a few questions about where you went to school, if you have the time."

"Why?" Jason asked bluntly, and Lana gave his arm an admonishing squeeze.

"Oh if it's not a good time, I could-"

"It's a fine time, Clark, and…you do look familiar," she added, and Jason glanced at her. "But I am sort of curious why you're interested in my education."

He said the first thing that came to his head. "I'm writing an article for the Planet about the new art program at the Primary School, and I was curious about your own education, since you're the teacher there. We'd like to do a small spotlight on you as part of that article."

"Well…the program's not very new anymore," she said apologetically, and he kicked himself for not checking the date on the article he'd read. "But if you'd like to come inside-"

"Uh Lana," Jason interrupted. "Can I speak to you a moment first?"

"Sure." She glanced at Clark. "Mind if we close the door so the warm air doesn't escape?"

"No, go ahead." The door clicked shut, and Clark felt his heart sink. The unfamiliarity in her eyes hurt more than any of the judgmental glances she'd ever given him. How could it be that Lana didn't even know him? And now she was dating Jason. Jason was dead!

Clark pushed his thoughts away for the time being and listened through the door. Unfortunately, the conversation was already well underway by then, and he only caught the tail end.

"Are you sure?"

"Lana, I'm positive, I've seen him on TV."

"Jason," Lana gasped. "Why did he come here?"

"I don't know, I have no idea, but look- just go upstairs, call Luthor Corp."

Clark's pulse surged and suddenly the door swung open again. Jason was standing there alone now. "Tell me again, how did you know where to find Lana?"

Clark glanced over Jason's shoulder and saw Lana running into the living room to get something. "What's going on?"

Jason looked at Lana too and repositioned himself in the doorway, blocking Clark's view. "What do you really want, Clark?"

"I just need to talk to Lana for a minute-"

"Huh-uh, you can forget that."

Clark snapped. He was fed up with the lack of answers, and he wasn't going to let an obvious chance at the truth walk away from him like that. He surged forward, pushing Jason out of the doorway and entering the entryway, wet sneakers squeaking noisily on the brown tile. "Lana?" he called into the living room. "Lana, please, I just need a few answers."

Jason scrambled to shove Clark back towards the door, grabbing the considerably taller man by his shoulders and heaving with all his might. It soon turned into a scuffle. "Lana!" Jason cried, attempting to close the door on Clark. "Take Dylan upstairs!"

Clark was trying to prevent Jason from shutting the door and avoid hurting him at the same time, but at the mention of 'Dylan' he looked up, concentration momentarily broken. Lana was running for the stairs, a two-year-old boy clutched tightly in her arms. He had sandy hair and dark, almond eyes that stared anxiously at Clark over his mother's shoulder. Clark looked down at Jason's left hand, which was still braced against the door. Glimmering like a dying fire around his finger, a gold band.

Jason felt the pressure on the other side of the door suddenly release and the door slammed shut so hard, he heard the wood splinter. He locked it and ran to the phone just in time to see a blue and red blob streak past the window, and knew it was too late to contact Luthor Corp. He slammed the pone down and ran upstairs. "Lana?" he went to the bedroom, panting. "Lana, you okay?"

Lana was sitting shakily on their bed, trying to jostle Dylan and stop her own trembling at the same time. Jason took Dylan, sitting down beside her and putting an arm across her shoulders. "It's okay, he's gone."

Lana was not frightened, he realized, just profoundly confused. She was staring distractedly at Dylan, whose post-lunchtime hands were smearing jelly and saliva on his father's shirt. "I don't understand, Jason. Why did he come here? What did he want from me?"

Jason watched her for a long moment, glancing away only to wrap Dylan's sticky hand around his forefinger instead. When he looked up again, Lana's confused, hazel gaze was fixed on him. He sighed, pushing a thick, dark strand of hair from off her cheek, and shook his head. "I wish I knew."

- - - - -


	9. Nine

- - - - -

"Clark?" Chloe jumped off the sofa and ran to the door as he came walking quietly inside. Oliver was pouring over documents, as usual, and Bart didn't appear to be around. "Thank goodness- where have you been?"

Clark looked hastily down at his watch, remembering only then that it had stopped ticking when the face smashed. "Sorry, lost track of time."

Chloe's eyes went to the broken watch. "What happened?"

"I saw…you know, it's actually hard to explain. Someone from my other set of memories, though."

Oliver looked up from the reports. "Did she remember you?"

Clark appreciated his tolerance for what, to him, was probably an absurd idea. "No. No, she didn't recognize me. But listen, I think you're right, I think I need to learn more about this radiation treatment."

"Already there." Oliver stood, holding a report about an inch thick. "Took a lot of digging, but Lex does cover his back. Some of the information's there, you just have to translate it." He handed him a few sheets stapled together. The silence rang around them as Clark quickly read the first page.

"Says it contained some carcinogen substance. What, like cancer?"

"A promotion of cancer, but that shouldn't affect you. No, what caught my attention was their post-test report. This is the stuff Chloe managed to dig up on the real report."

Clark looked at the spot where he was pointing, and Chloe expounded, "According to this, your brain went a little haywire during the test. It looks like you might have suffered dissociative amnesia. The situation was too much for your mind to handle, and with normal people, that would mean total memory loss. But, you know…"

"I'm not normal, so I filled in the blanks myself," Clark finished curtly. Chloe bit her lip.

"Clark," Oliver interrupted defensively, taking the pages back. "I know it's not conclusive, but you're the one who wanted the answers." He shook the paper. "This is all we've got so far."

"Yeah. Yeah, I know." Clark gave Chloe an apologetic glance and crossed his arms. "I found Lana."

"Did she recognize you?" Chloe asked.

"From Luthor Corp's TV spots, yeah." She winced. "That's not what gets me the most. She's married to Jason Teague." He looked for recognition on Chloe's face. Not a spark. "Jason's dead in my memories."

Oliver took a deep breath. "Listen, Clark…does it occur to you that this- this Kryptonite, as you call it, it's the only thing that's ever been able to mess with you? And here we've got medical reports that say it caused unexplainable traumatic amnesia."

"Oliver I appreciate what you're trying to do, but I'm not going to take your word and especially not some Luthor Corp report as conclusive evidence." He shook his head firmly. "I can't believe my entire past is a figment of my imagination until I hear it from someone who knows for sure. My father."

Chloe and Oliver shared an unreadable expression. "Clark," Chloe said hesitantly, "what makes you think he-"

"Not Jonathan Kent," Clark interrupted. "While I was in Metropolis, I did some more checking up on The Destination Project and I found out they have my ship."

Chloe nodded. "Yeah, I know. They've had it for years."

"I can't get to the fortress without the key, so that ship is the only way my biological father can communicate with me. I have a feeling if anyone knows what's going on, he will."

"Going on the assumption that this is all a bad dream," Chloe said, bypassing all of this ridiculous new information, "how do you know he won't lie to you like everyone else?"

"Last time I got caught up in a fake reality, the only one who knew what was really going on was a Kryptonian. Or something like it, I think." Clark sat on the arm of the couch, staring down at the wood floor. "Look it's insane, but it's all I've got. I have to go back to Luthor Corp."

"Forget it."

"Oliver…"

"Oh c'mon, snap out of it Clark!" Clark just stared wearily back. "I know you don't like the way things are looking, I hate it too. You think I like the Green Arrow being seen as a delinquent? All I wanted was what you wanted. To help people. And Lex turned Metropolis against me."

"I'm not doing this because I'm angry. Oliver- I have a life in my head that never happened."

"We'll fix it, we'll reverse it somehow. But if Lex catches you again, that's it. It took Chloe, Bart and I four months to bust you out of there."

"And I'm sure I have no intention of making you do it again," Clark replied vehemently. "But Bart was right, I have to do something. And if I get there and find out I was wrong, then…I guess I'll find a way to adjust to all this."

Chloe watched him during the entire exchange with wounded eyes. He couldn't imagine the thoughts running through her head, and yet when she spoke, her voice held only resolve. "You do what you have to do Clark. But please don't go alone."

A whizzing sound came from beside Clark, and he turned to find Bart leaning on the back of the couch. "Geez, Bart," Oliver scolded, "where have you been?"

"Winning some pocket money on the Dance, Dance Revolution," Bart said, shrugging.

"The arcade. What in the-"

"Breeze off, man, I was in Vegas."

"Yeah cause eyewitnesses are so rare in those parts," Oliver said peevishly.

"'sides, didn't I hear you discussing ET right now?"

"Thanks Bart," Clark said sarcastically.

Chloe pinched Bart in the shoulder and he put on an exaggerated grimace, jumping away from her. "Let's see if we can't channel that creative energy in yours and Clark's escape plan."

"Yeah umn…didn't we just R and R from one of those?"

"Clark's going back, and being that you're the only other one with superpowers, you're coming with."

"You me again, huh bro?" Bart held up a fist and after an arched eyebrow, Clark lightly punched it. "Sweet."

- - - - -

After Bart quit whining about the horrible cliché of dressing up as janitors, the plan went off without a hitch. Security was low since their crown jewel was gone, and Lex probably never dreamed Clark would return of his own volition. Bart and Clark parted company at the top of the access stairs.

"Time for an impromptu fire-drill," Bart grinned and vanished.

Clark went the rest of the way up the stairs, and across several long hallways, Oliver's carefully penciled map clenched in his fist. He wished the butterflies in his stomach would disappear. He couldn't think of a place that made him feel more uneasy. The lighting, the rumbling, grinding noises that came from the pipes in the walls, even the sickeningly familiar smell of Pine Sol mixed with sterilized air and latex gloves triggered a horrible little twinge in Clark's lower back.

Finally, with a rush of relief, he saw the glass door labeled "RESTRICTED 92" up ahead. Lex moved the ship from room to room, but Chloe could hack anything. Clark super-sped to the door and forced it open. Right on queue, Bart set off the fire alarm, overriding the access alarm. Clark slipped inside.

Looming up ahead, glowing over a shining dais with lights implanted to give it a ghostly glow, his ship was lying, covered in a two-inch Plexiglas case that magnified a few of the craft's sharp angles. Clark had never been so happy to see that ship in his life. It used to be a symbol of everything he didn't want, all that he was trying to get away from. Now it was as though Jor-El had found a chance to be a real father for the first time.

Clark smashed the protective case, showering floor around it in sparkling rain, took a step back and waited. This would be easier if he had the key, but Lex would never put two priceless items in the same storeroom. He remembered when Tina Greer had trapped him in the cellar and the ship had come alive then on its own. To purify Lana's Kryptonite necklace and to free Clark. Well Clark needed it again. Perhaps it would reiterate the gesture.

After awhile, Clark pressed his warm palm to its liquid-like surface. It was vibrating, almost…breathing. He stood back and it began to rise, the slats along the sides gliding back to reveal golden light within. Wind whipped his coat and hair back and he squinted as a low, deeply familiar voice came from the glowing ship, reverberating off the walls. "It is finally time, Kal-El."

"Time for what?" Clark shouted back. "What's happening?"

"Events that should not have occurred have been set in motion by the hand of a human."

"What events? I don't understand-!"

"Someone has gone into your past, Kal-El. They have altered it, and succeeding those alterations are the events in your life you cannot now understand."

"Please." Clark took a step towards the light. "What can I do to change it back?"

"I can give you the ability to return to your past and discover what and who it is that has changed your future."

"Can't you tell me who it is?"

"I do not know, my son. But once you go back, you will be gone from this present. The risks are great."

"Send me back!" Clark waited, panting hard as Jor-El fell silent. "You have to; I don't care about the consequences. I'm begging you. I…I can't stay here!"

"Listen to me, Kal-El. If you disappear into your past, the ones you care for will be left here without you."

Clark nodded slowly. "I understand. But it's the only way."

The gold light dissipated and the ship settled on its dais once more. After a moment, it began to rev again, rattling on the spot and Clark saw wisps of smoke so white they were almost blue, rising from the key slot. When the smoke had cleared, Clark stepped forward to examine the object that it had left behind and found an exact replica of the ship's key made out of what looked like glass. As he lifted it from the hole, however, he realized it was the same sparkling crystal that formed the fortress. The ship glowed dully white.

"Hold it tightly, Kal-El, it will not break. Your left hand will send you to your past; your right returns you to the future. Do not attempt to see beyond today, my son, or the key will shatter. You cannot see what is not yet written."

Clark swallowed hard, fingering the key. "What…what if I change something in my past?"

"You cannot effect the past. Only see it with your future's eyes."

"Then what am I supposed to-"

BREEEEP! BREEEP! BREEEP!

Clark whirled, running for the door, to see Bart was already standing there. "Clark move it, they powered down the fire alarm!"

The two super-sped through their escape plan. They ran down five flights and to the emergency exit doors in under sixty seconds. Clark screeched to a stop, pushing on the bar. "It's locked," he said in disbelief.

"But there was a fie-drill, it should still be open!"

"I know Bart, but it's not."

Bart stepped back. "So bust it."

Clark squinted at it, attempting to see through. "It's lead."

"So you can't break lead?"

"No, I can…but I think there's probably a reason-"

"Man we've got twenty seconds till the cavalry gets here. Just bust the flipping door!"

CRASH!

Clark pounded straight through like a bullet through tissue paper. He stood for just a moment on the other side before the feeling overtook him. His head spun, his knees felt queasy and awkward, and without warning he plunged to floor. "Clark!" He felt Bart behind him, rolling him onto his back. "Clark, where is it? Where's the Kryptonite?"

"I don't…can't tell," Clark bit out. "Bart- get outa here!"

"Forget it man." With a sound like an air soft gun, Bart disappeared from view, reappearing moments later with a curse-word. "I can't find it!"

"I think…it's under the floor. It's a trap, Lex must have- agh!" The pain went up a level as the Kryptonite surged, pulsing as though it were a living thing. Clark's eyes and fingertips stung. "Just go, Bart!"

"Come on, stretch, you wouldn't ditch me either. Now get up!" Bart grabbed Clark under the arms and ran. It wasn't easy. He nearly hit a wall trying to carry Clark's deadweight at top speed, but when Clark sat up, the nausea was ebbing away and his powers had returned. "Now what?" Bart panted next to him.

Clark took a gulping breath to steady himself. "Now we run for the one door we know we can get through." Moments later, a stiff breeze shot through the lobby of Luthor Corp and out the front doors, shattering the glass.

- - - - -

"He went…to the ship," Lex said for the umpteenth time, and Geiger resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Many heralded Luthor Corp's chief exec as a genius, but his obsessive fascination with this project reminded the lieutenant more of an eccentric. "Did the countermeasures work?"

"He ran through one of the faulty exits, but escaped." That didn't seem to surprise Lex. "But they did run through the front door."

Lex swiveled around in his chair. "And?"

"The redeye through security camera activated the signal. We have eyes on Mr. Garrick now."

- - - - -


	10. Ten

- - - - -

"In and out like a rodent problem, dude, that's gotta be killing Lex right now." Bart was positively glowing as he and Clark killed time in Central Park. Disappearing while Luthor Corp cooled down was Clark's idea. New York was Bart's, and he was like a kid in a candy store. "Just think, man, just- imagine the look on his face when he realized we went in, stole his stuff, and got back out, not a scratch on us."

"I told you, I didn't steal anything."

"Right, right, your old man spoke to you and made you an ice cube."

Clark bit back his exasperation. "And it's not an ice cube."

"Hey don't take this the wrong way, man, but uh…isn't he dead? Your dad, didn't he- you know, blow up?"

Clark sighed heavily, leaning against a giant oak. He didn't feel like explaining Jor-El to Bart just now. His mind was still buzzing with the news his father had left him. This was real life. His life. He wasn't sure whether to be relieved or sick to his stomach, but he was leaning towards the latter. The world knew his secret. It was impossible to wrap his head around.

"Clark!"

"Wha…?" Clark automatically looked around for danger, causing Bart to laugh lightly at him.

"You're dozing off, man. Want to head back to Kansas?"

"Uh…yeah, you know? I'd like to talk to Chloe."

"About what Jodelle told you?"

"Jor-El, Bart," Clark corrected with a tired smile, and put his hand in his pocket to finger the key again. "And yeah, I think her and Oliver should both know what I found out."

"Uh-huh, yeah. I guess."

Clark glanced at him, then darted back across the park, indicating Bart should follow him. "Bart, I know this is crazy to you. But bear with me, alright?"

"Dude you're telling me that my life is a ruse, kay? How am I supposed to take that?"

"You're not. Just- don't think I've lost my mind. Think you can do that?"

Bart gave him a grin that said he was revving his engine. "You got it." He took off with Clark close on his heels.

They tore through grass, over sidewalks, across busy streets, watching as New York whizzed past them like a picture slideshow paced at ten-times speed. They didn't stop until they reached Metropolis once more. Clark said they should wait a little longer before returning to the cabin, and though impatient with all the "skulking around", Bart reluctantly agreed. It was hard for him to explain to his impulsive friend, but now that Clark knew this was real life, he felt twice as cautious.

They went to a small coffee shop down the street from the Daily Planet called The Cocoa Mocha and Clark waited outside with his collar turned up as Bart dashed inside and returned seconds later with two steaming cups. "I hope you left money on the table you took these from, like we agreed." Bart rolled his eyes, sped back in and out, and they set off for somewhere hidden to wait.

After poking around for awhile, they discovered a very abandoned-looking alley behind a Chinese Restaurant, and sat around on the damp dumpsters to drink their coffee in peace. "This cloak and dagger stuff's the pits," Bart muttered, slurping down his latté without blowing on it, and hissing as it scalded his tongue.

"Beats being a Luthor Corp lab rat, trust me," Clark replied, gazing around at the brick walls.

After a pause, Bart said, "Uh…listen, I've been meaning to ask you something." Clark looked expectantly at him. "I know-" but he stopped, slipping off the dumpster and letting the cup slip out of his hand, spattering the dirty ground with coffee. Clark watched his eyes dance restlessly around the alley, and he raced to stand next to him, his own coffee abandoned on the dumpster.

Clark strained his ears but heard only the normal bustle of the street sidewalks. "Bart? What is it?"

"It's uh…something's…" He shook his head as if trying to clear stars from his vision. "Someone's coming, Clark," he said seriously. "We gotta go. Let's just- agh!"

"Bart!" Bart crumpled to the ground, arms and legs flailing spasmodically. Clark crashed down next to him, collecting the thrashing boy up in his arms, but a split-second before he began to run, he felt his knees beginning to quake, and the walls waved in his vision as though being seen through a warped piece of glass. He toppled to the side, trying to cushion Bart's fall with his own body. Bart fell on him, rolled to the side and attempted to scramble to his hands and knees.

"We've got them, send reinforcements!" Men in Luthor Corp uniforms seemed to come from nowhere, pounding up the alley. The moment Clark heard the words 'inform Mr. Luthor' he knew he was living his worst nightmare.

"Bart get out of here!" He said frantically, but one glance at the twitching form of Bart told him he was in no condition to do so. Clark forced himself off the ground, groping for Bart's hood and giving it a tug. "Bart. You gotta run." Bart just continued to thrash on the ground.

Suddenly Clark felt someone shoving him onto his back and saw what looked like a glow rod sticking in his face, emanating a poisonous wave of Kryptonite. "Please remain still, Clark," the man holding the glowing stick told him. The familiar phrase sent trickles of nausea down Clark's back.

"What're you doing to him?" He bit out, and the man looked over at Bart.

He seemed unhappy with the boy's tremors, and called over his shoulder, "Fischer? Turn the electric generator off already, Mr. Luthor's not interested in a vegetable."

Fischer reached into his coat and pulled out a transmitter, which he flicked off. Instantly, Bart became still and Fischer stood over him with a taser. "Boy I'd stay real still if I were you. Looks to me like you don't take electricity too well." Bart just glared up at him, eyes on fire.

"This is Lieutenant Geiger," the man standing over Clark said into his radio, handing the Kryptonite stick off to someone else, who knelt beside Clark, holding it inches from his forehead. Clark cringed and tried to roll onto his side as Geiger continued, "That's right, Mr. Luthor…they're both contained. We're bringing them both in now. He should be right on time for his medical work-up. Yes sir."

Clark's pulse surged and he just knew he couldn't go back. Truthfully, he would prefer to die than live in a test-tube at Luthor Corp. With a rush of adrenaline, he shoved himself up off the ground, smacking his forehead on the Kryptonite stick and sending it flying off to his left. The nausea lingered, but he forced himself onto hands and knees, knocked the two men on either side of him a few feet away, and scrambled away from Geiger as fast as he could, trying to gain his feet.

"Bart- Bart run!"

Bart saw the taser before Clark did and he acted, as usual, without thinking. Fischer's finger went down on the trigger and in a millisecond, Bart was standing between the lieutenant and Clark. There was strangled cry and Clark spun around in time to see Bart hitting the ground. Clark rushed to him, batting at the Luthor Corp employees like flies as they tried to tug him back. Fischer, who had dropped the taser when it began to sizzle in his hands, just stood, trying to make sense of what had happened

"Bart! Bart." Clark turned him onto his back. The boy's hair stuck up crazily and his eyes stared half-lidded at the sky. "Bart?" He shook him, tapping him on the cheeks, but could not get Bart to look him in the eye. Hesitantly, he checked his pulse.

"Nice work, Fischer," Geiger reprimanded. "Mr. Luthor will not be happy when he finds out you killed-"

"He's not dead, he's in shock!" Clark shouted suddenly, shaking Bart's shoulders harder.

"Clark, please back away from him," Geiger said calmly. Clark ignored him and began mouth-to-mouth, muttering firmly to the boy in between breaths. "It was 700 volts, Clark. His mechanisms are fried, there's nothing you can do."

"C'mon Bart. Come on!"

"Clark-"

"Come on!"

"Will someone please calm Mr. Kent down?" Geiger indicated (with a note of irritation) the Kryptonite rod, which was lying abandoned a few feet away. One of the employees hurried to retrieve it and Clark instantly stopped the resuscitation, looking up at Geiger instead. His eyes burned into the lieutenant's. "I'm sorry, Clark."

Clark steeled his jaw. "No you're not." Thunder split the sky and just like that, both boys vanished.

- - - - -

"He's got to stop doing this," Oliver grumbled out the rain-spattered window.

"Which one?"

"Both." Chloe grinned and he turned around to look at her. "What?"

"You know Bart, Oliver. They're probably just at Baskin Robbins or visiting the Louvre or something."

"Better not be, I gave Bart explicit instructions not to leave the continent."

She shrugged, closing the magazine in her lap. "They may even be safer there." Thunder vibrated overhead, and both looked the ceiling as a hard wind made the rafters squeak. "You gotta give him one thing; this place isn't exactly the White House."

"It's out-of-the-way and inconspicuous," Oliver said defensively, then seeing she was still grinning, added, "And I never got a clubhouse as a kid."

"Aw, poor Christopher Robin."

BANG!

The door smacked open, denting the wall behind it, and Chloe and Oliver both jumped. Clark was standing there, dripping wet, Bart gathered limply in his arms. Oliver swore and Chloe couldn't seem to find her voice. Both darted for the door, Oliver taking Bart from Clark's arms before he could protest.

"Is he okay?" Chloe asked, running to the couch to clear everything away.

Clark swallowed hard. "Chloe…"

"What happened, where were you?"

"Chloe?"

"I mean I assumed you took a detour, but how did-"

"Chloe- Chloe!" He grabbed her hard by the arm and she turned. So did Oliver. Then they both saw the look in his eyes, the way his hands were shaking, his mouth slightly open, trying to say something he didn't want to say. Oliver set Bart down on the couch, his fingers searching for a pulse. He froze.

Chloe spun frantically back to him. "Well shouldn't we be taking him to the hospital then?"

Clark let go of her arm, letting his hand fall loosely to his side. "I'm-"

"No."

"I'm sorry, Chloe."

"No, Clark, don't."

"I'm sorry." She fell against him, and it was all he could do to put his arms around her as she sobbed into his jacket. He looked up at Oliver, who was kneeling beside the couch, both hands on Bart's chest as though he could still revive him. He could feel something, too. A strange energy that made him feel…he glanced down at Chloe, hesitantly x-raying through her shoulder. He blinked, heart racing, and held her tighter, repeating, "I'm sorry" twice more, though the words held new meaning. She just closed her hands around fistfuls of his shirt and jacket.

"I couldn't take him to the hospital," he said to no one in particular, chin resting on the top of Chloe's blonde head. "He died saving me…I couldn't let myself get taken in, though there was a part of me that felt like I'd deserve it."

"Don't say that," Chloe said thickly, stepping out of his embrace. "He knows…how important you are." She went quietly to the couch, getting down next to Oliver and reaching for Bart's cold hand. The boy looked like a ten-year-old in his sodden clothes and dripping hair. Clark felt his chest tightening.

"I'm going to fix this."

Chloe shut her eyes, tears sliding down to her chin. "It's not yours to fix."

His hand went unconsciously into his pocket, fingering the key Jor-El gave him. How could he explain this? "I have to go away for a bit. I'll be back. I promise."

"Where are you-"

"Fine." Oliver's voice was low and hoarse and he didn't look up. "Do your hero thing, Clark."

Clark opened his mouth to reply, but then realized he had nothing to say. He watched the two of them, huddled around Bart's body, and all he could do was hope against hope that somehow, he would find a way to change his past and create a future where this whole scene never happened.

Without a goodbye, he pulled the key from his pocket, squeezed it with all his strength, and the cabin disappeared in a cloud of silver smoke.

- - - - -


	11. Eleven

- - - - -

Images whizzed towards him like oncoming traffic and voices spun through his head, filling the air so thickly that there was no air to breathe. Smoke and voices entered his lungs instead. He held tightly to the key for mere seconds, before he decided to let go. It fell flat against his palm, and the smoke cleared instantly, revealing a familiar room with austere walls and vibrant lights.

Clark stood in bewilderment as his eyes danced around the cell at Luthor Corp. Then he noticed someone sleeping on a cot to his left, and his heart gave a leap of shock. It was him.

The door clanked open, and both Clark and his counterpart on the cot turned (though the one on the cot turned much slower, stiff and lethargic). It was Trently, carrying a tray of food. The Clark on the cot spoke hesitantly, squinting against his headache. "Where uh…what happened?"

Trently glanced up at him. "It's okay man, you're always out of it early in the morning."

"What time is it?"

"About seen AM."

It all seemed to happen in slow motion as Clark watched his horrified reactions to this parallel universe. He watched himself refused the pills first, then he fought Trently and ran for the door. For a bizarre moment, Clark wanted to follow himself down the twisting hallways. However, he knew how that ended: With him blacking at the feet of the Care Unit. That memory was best buried.

"Alright," he said to himself, and taking a deep breath, squeezed the key tightly becoming instantly enveloped in the silver smoke once more.

The world spun around him like a crazy carousel, picking up speed as it went. Voices became a mere roar in his ears, the vision of his past flying by morphing into a strange sort of slideshow, dizzying to watch. His breath quickened the faster he went, heart racing. What if he went too far?

Finally, he could take the vertigo no longer, and his grip loosened. He felt himself spiraling downward, the time slowing around him like a train coming to a stop. And suddenly he was standing on solid ground. He looked around him and saw with an unexpectedly strong wave of nostalgia that he was in Smallville. Golden light bathed the walls and roofs of the buildings towering around Main Street and the sidewalks swarmed with crowds of excited people.

The blast of a car horn made Clark jump out of his reverie and run for the curb as a powder-blue Cadillac came pounding down the street, a throng of screaming cheerleaders standing in its backseat. It was then that Clark noticed the huge, yellow banner strung over the street proclaiming: LET'S GO CROWS! CAW! CAW!

Clark was still dazzled by the bright, cheerful atmosphere around him, when someone brushed past his shoulder causing him to turn. He blinked. "Dad?"

Jonathan held up a hand to let the driver of the cheerleader's car know he was about to cross. The car had come to a complete stop to let a few more girls on, but Jonathan still glanced up and down the street before crossing. Clark followed him and they came to a stop by a bright red pickup parked on the opposite side of the street. Clark stood outside the door as Jonathan went to put two bags in the truck's bed, and saw another familiar face. He smiled to himself. "Mom." Martha sighed to herself, turning to lean against the pickup's window, a blissfully faraway look in her eyes.

Jonathan came to the door, and Clark backed up to let him through, even though he wasn't actually there anyway. Jonathan shut the door shut and turned to Martha, smiling at her. "I know what you wished for."

Clark heard his mom sigh. "I see a little face. It's all I ever wanted." Jonathan leaned forward and gave her a gentle kiss and Clark could feel his heart swell with the deepest affection for the both of them. He had been the answer to that wish. He felt strangely proud of that.

The Cadillac's horn blasted once more, and all three Kents spun at the sound. Jonathan laughed. "Hey, looks like Smallville won again!" He gunned up the engine and Clark wanted so badly to climb into the back and ride to that cornfield. To see himself meeting his earthly parents for the first time. But somehow, he knew that the answers he was looking for did not lie with his parents, but with Lana. So he stood on the sidewalk and watched them go, then crossed back over the street.

Then it happened. Even though Clark knew it was coming, it seemed instantaneous and unpredictable. Light split the sky, followed by a long tail of black smoke. Like a bullet moving in graceful, slow motion. The crowd gathered in the street below did not panic but fell silent, eyes fixed as though hypnotized on the sky. "Run…" Clark whispered to the people gathered on the sidewalk around him, knowing no one would hear. "Run!"

Clark saw three people dive for the ground as the first meteor hit, propelling a car ten feet into the air. Screams erupted from down the street. People took off, only to spin around and flee the other direction as the Smallville water tower blew. Clark watched in horror as whole throngs moved like a frightened animals up and down the street, down alleys, away from and towards destruction.

Something Chloe had told him his freshman year came to his mind like a bizarre commentary of the disaster that played before him. "_That's when it all began; when the town went schitzo."_

"My fault," he murmured, standing in the center of Main Street, the only one not running. The meteor freaks, the deaths, the tragedies. All because Jor-El wanted to save his only son. Millions had died for that one mercy, and it tore at Clark as he watched devastation unfold before him, knowing there was nothing he could do to stop it.

He scurried around the crowded streets, eyes peeled for Lana's Aunt Nell. But it was impossible to navigate the pandemonium, and Clark chose to follow the swarm of Smallville citizens away from town, hoping something out of the ordinary would catch his attention.

Suddenly, a young man in a battered trench coat scurried past him, clutching something to his chest, head ducked against the crowd. He was probably one of a hundred people to rush past Clark as everyone evacuated Smallville, but this man was muttering under his throat. Clark reached out with his sensitive hearing, and caught, "…make us both famous, Mr. White."

White was not an uncommon last name. However, Clark out of curiosity x-rayed the man as he shoved his way to the front of the throng, and saw the thing he was clutching was a camera. Perry White? Clark ran after him.

It was a hunch, but it turned out to be correct. As the man in the trench coat cut across a waving cornfield, Clark saw a news van and a regular posse of black SUVs parked on the dirt road ahead. He followed the man to one of the SUVs where a very clean, very young Perry White was standing, an almost reverent horror on his face as he watched the sky.

"Mr. White," the man said, panting eagerly. "I have it. I have art. I got- I must have filled three rolls, I even did a black and white strip if you want to go classy. I got people, I got buildings, I got the asteroids-"

"Meteors."

"Sorry, what?"

Perry turned to him, eyes vacant. "They're meteors, Tony."

"Yeah." Tony shrugged. "Whatever, but I got this great shot-"

"Do you have enough art for the cover?" Tony looked irritated at the second interruption, but nodded. "Then we're done here." Perry turned to his car.

"Yeah good thinking. There's a surprising lot of people out here in Mayberry, and every one of them are headed for the freeway. Don't want to get caught in that mess, right? This report's gonna be hot off the presses while this party's still going on."

"What's this shot you were talking about?" Perry inquired vaguely, as though he hadn't heard a thing Tony had said since that comment. "I like to know the picture I'm basing my article around, you know."

Tony rummaged through his bag and handed a slide to Perry. "Some little girl crying in her mom's arms. It's precious, White. Even you have to agree, that shot's iconic."

Clark's heart gave a leap and he leaned into Perry's window, trying to see the slide as the light shone behind it. He didn't get more than a glimpse of it, but he knew what it was anyway. Lana, huddled in Nell's arms. The devastated little face from Time Magazine flashed through his mind, and he felt a pang of guilt he couldn't shake. _My fault._

"Let's get out of here, Tony," Perry said quietly, handing the slide back. Clark leaned out of the window just in time for the SUV to shoot off down the road, swerving around people escaping on foot and narrowly missing a second news van.

Clark thought for a moment about that picture. Lana's parents died today. So far, nothing had changed. With a heavy heart, Clark retrieved the key from his pocket, letting it lie warmly against his palm. Then he squeezed it tight. 1989 vanished.

- - - - -

He let quite a bit of time pass by him. If memory served, few people in Smallville even knew the Kents had a son, until months after he'd been living there. At that point, Ethan Miller could not hold back the news any longer and days later, half the town knew. Still, Clark didn't get out much, hence his lack of communication with Lana before that conversation they had in the cemetery his freshman year. He decided that would be the best place to go next. Something must have prevented the meeting from occurring, seeing that Lana didn't recognized his face or name.

Clark tried to focus on some of the images speeding past , but only caught glimpses. It was enough to tell him that he was about thirteen. Just a little further- pickup! Clark recognized the red-and-white pickup with the big, blue bow on its hood a second too late. By the time he let go, the thank-you gift Jonathan made him return to Lex was gone, and he was standing outside his barn in the middle of the night.

Clark went quickly into the house, not even noticing as he walked right through the kitchen door. Martha and Jonathan were sitting at the table, Jonathan with a newspaper, Martha with a book. The radio crackled from the kitchen counter playing a cheery Bon Jovi single. Martha sat up suddenly. "I'm so glad we got him to go."

Jonathan grinned to himself, eyes still on the paper. "Clark's a big boy, Martha."

"I know it, but after the whole mess with saving Lex Luthor's life, and the truck he had to give back and…well…" She trailed off, eyes on Jonathan, who folded his paper and nodded.

"Finding out he's an alien."

She shrugged. "I'm just glad he was able to do something so…normal. I was afraid he wouldn't want to go after all that."

"Any red-blooded teenager wants the chance at a first date," Jonathan pointed out, raising his eyebrows in a way that made Martha laugh.

"Clark Kent at Homecoming dance. Oh Jonathan," she sighed, and opened her book again. "I wish I could see that."

Clark's heart gave a leap. Homecoming? He wasn't at Homecoming; he was playing scarecrow in a cornfield. Had his parents really thought he was away at the dance? Unless…unless something changed. Clark sped away from his parents' farm and disappeared down the road towards Lex's plant.

He shot to a halt outside the cornfield, x-raying through the darkness. Sure enough, about fifteen feet from the edge, there was someone hanging from a cross-shaped scaffold. Clark ran, automatically trying to bat the corn out of his way before realizing it wasn't actually moving as he pushed through it.

At last he saw a person looming up ahead, silhouetted against the sky like a strange shadow-puppet display. Clark approached the young man carefully.

"Help me…," the boy whispered suddenly, and Clark realized it wasn't his own voice. He leaned down, trying to see his shadowed face. As if on queue, the boy lifted his head ever so slightly, then shivered, and dropped it again. Clark took a step back.

"Eric?" Upon closer inspection, Clark realized that it was indeed Eric Summers. The boy who had inadvertently taken his powers with Kryptonite. "Why am I not the scarecrow…" Clark whispered worriedly, still staring at Eric. "And-" he glanced around, something occurring to him.

"_Homecoming dance. I never made it to mine."_

"_Get me down…please?"_

"_You're safer here."_

Clark felt the air turn icy. "Where's Jeremy."

- - - - -

The gym was exactly as he remembered it Homecoming night. Orange and pink lights danced on a glossy, crimson floor, the dim ambiance disturbed only by a blue-white spotlight that pinpointed the Homecoming king and queen. But Lana and Whitney were not beneath that spotlight as they had been in Clark's memory. It was Nate Vauger, the Crow's left forward and Mandy Walsh, the cheerleader who would poison the team's Gatorade with "love potion" years later.

Clark was ready to run to Lana's house and see if she had stayed home for some reason, when something else caught his eye. Chloe was spinning slowly around the floor, eyes fixed dazedly on the young man holding her hand. Clark could tell at a glance her partner was way too tall to be Pete, but it seemed to take him forever to turn so Clark could actually see his face. Finally, however, he did so, and Clark stared yet again at his own face. He had taken Chloe to Homecoming dance?

The two of them were having the time of their lives. Chloe spun to the end of his arm, twirled back, slamming into his chest, and they'd both burst out laughing. "I swear I have three left feet. I can't dance, I really can't!" he heard her say.

"Me neither!" the Clark on the dance floor replied, trying to swing her around and nearly dropping her. "Woah- sorry." Chloe was laughing too hard to reply.

Then something caught Clark's sensitive hearing, causing him to turn his head to the noise, focusing on it. Rattling. Squeaking. Like the sound of rusted pipes or…a water spigot.

Clark ran top-speed, but when he reached the sprinkler system control box, Jeremy was no longer there. He had gone to execute his plan. To electrocute everyone in the gym. Though he knew he could do nothing, Clark tore back to the hall.

Lifehouse began to play. His and Chloe's dance slowed, all silliness replaced with earnest silence. Neither of them knew what was about to happen. Clark felt someone breathing behind him in the shadows, and he turned to find Jeremy approaching from behind, his gaze fixed on the dance floor as well but with a much different intent. The sprinklers sputtered to life and there were screams, followed by a mad scramble for the doors, which turned out to be locked.

"I tried to make it stop," Jeremy whispered, barely audible over the pandemonium. "But you wouldn't listen. That kid Eric's probably going to die. And here you all are dancing, the jocks and their cheerleaders, the nerds and their lab partners." He smiled drolly. "Sorry to cut the night short."

He put both hands on the metal railing in front of him, taking a deep breath. "No don't!" Clark shouted. "Jeremy- this isn't the answer. Do you want more people to die? Is that what you want?"

"I should have known," Jeremy said broodingly, hands clenching harder as the electricity charged up his arms. "Jocks don't change."

"Jeremy!"

Blue, purple and white sparks shot down his arms, through his hands and across the banister. It cut through the air like lightening, setting the Homecoming banner ablaze. The screams intensified, punctuated by exploding balloons and the fire alarms, which had finally begun to blare. Clark scrambled over the railing, plummeting soundlessly to the wet floor. He looked around wildly, trying to find himself and Chloe. He spotted both. Clark was trying to force his way to the front of the group clamoring to force the doors open.

"Let me give it a shot!" he shouted, clinging tightly to Chloe's hand as she tried to stay with him. He reached the door. Clark could tell he was trying to think of a way to force the door open without everyone asking questions later. "On the count of three," he called over his shoulder, "push as hard as you can! One! Two!"

"Three!" Chloe screamed with him, and they slammed against the door. With Clark in the front, it flew off its hinges like threadbare flag off its pole.

"Go! Go!" Clark shouted, ushering people out the door, still squeezing Chloe's hand.

Chloe jumped onto her tiptoes, shouting into his ear, "Clark!" He turned and saw that she was upset. "Clark, where's Pete?"

There was a loud boom from the gym as the sound equipment blew and Clark let go of Chloe's hand, running for the door. "Pete!"

"Clark be careful!" Chloe cried after him as he disappeared inside, clinging to the doorway so she wouldn't get pulled away with the crowd.

Pete was huddled behind what was left of the sound equipment, which was now roaring in a brilliant fire, one leg pinned beneath a gigantic speaker. Clark ran for the stage, dodging the lights that started raining from the ceiling with the water. "Pete, wait there!"

"Clark, help get this thing off me!" Pete hollered back.

"Yeah, Clark," a snide voice came from behind him. Clark turned and saw Jeremy standing behind him. "Take your date and run along home."

"You're Jeremy."

Jeremy was livid. "All I tried to do is stop these guys, and you-" he gestured wildly at the door where Chloe was still standing. "You give them a way out. They don't deserve it, Kent." He nodded at Pete. "None of you do."

"I didn't string you up in that field, Jeremy."

"No, but no one tried to stop it either. Not then, not now." He held his hands up, blue and white sparks shimmering at the fingertips like sparklers. "When this whole gym goes up like Hiroshima, then maybe they'll listen."

Clark spun to the doorway. "Chloe get out of here!" She froze, horrified eyes fixed on Jeremy. "Chloe! Run!"

"Yeah run, Chloe, it doesn't matter anyway!" Jeremy put both palms on the wall beside him, energy coursing through the water that streaked it, snaking towards the entrance where Chloe stood, hands still clinging to the door. Not two feet away from her was the gym's fuse box.

Clark had the briefest opportunity to make a decision. He ran for Chloe, whose eyes were still on Jeremy, and snatched her away from the door. Seconds later, both of them crashed to the floor exactly the same moment the school was struck with a deafening boom. Clark jumped on top of Chloe as fire and debris erupted from the gym, sending both doors flying off their hinges. He stayed there, hand pressed on the back of her head, until the roaring subsided. When he clambered to his knees, the back of his suit jacket was smoldering and he hastened to shake it off before Chloe saw. The school's lights flickered and went out.

He helped her off the floor, and both stood, staring at the smoky shell that used to be the gym. The storm lights came on, flooding them in an eerie, red glow. "Pete-" Chloe gasped, and Clark ran inside. "Clark!"

"Pete!"

"Clark-"

"PETE!" Clark ran to the stage, pulling the charred stereo system out of the way. "Pete- Pete?"

Outside, Chloe stood anxiously, waiting for him to return from out of the smoke. "Clark?" she called over the loud spurting of the few sprinklers that had kept running. Finally Clark appeared, soot-streaked and empty-handed. "Pete?"

"He's…" Clark swallowed, eyebrows furrowed, and didn't continue. Chloe slipped like a water damaged flower petal to the floor and cried into her hands. Clark got down beside her, pulling her into a hug that seemed so very inadequate, and stared straight ahead, uncomprehending.

From the hallway, just feet away from the two friends, Clark stood and watched, feeling the same empty disbelief he could see written on his past self's face. He hadn't even asked about Pete when he reached this new world, since he had not heard from him for almost three years. And now…Pete was dead?

"Oh my-!" someone gasped from behind Clark, causing him to turn. A whole crowd of the kids who had just escaped the gym were now surging back, their curiosity outweighing their fear. "Someone get Principle Kwan now!"

"Clark?" One of the kids pushed to the front of the throng at seeing Clark and Chloe huddled on the floor. Clark realized it was Justin Gaines, clearly before the car accident that eliminated the use of his hands and gave him telekinesis. "Hey- Chloe. Clark." Justin slid across floor to them, out of breath. "What happened?"

Clark just looked at him, opening his mouth to respond, but Chloe beat him to it, leaning out of his arms, to whisper to Justin, "It's Pete."

"Pete Ross?" Justin glanced at Clark.

"He didn't get out in time," Clark explained quietly. Fresh tears spilled down Chloe's cheeks, and he collected her up again as Justin took in this new information, trying to think of what to say.

Clark stood around for maybe a half-hour as the fire department arrived and cleared everyone from the building onto the front lawn. He watched himself and Chloe stand around with the other kids, shivering in the frigid air but too stubborn in their horrified disbelief to go home. Clark had had enough. He squeezed the key tightly in his right hand, and like a bad dream, the fire, emergency vehicles and students were engulfed in the white and gray smoke once more.

- - - - -


	12. Twelve

- - - - -

"He deserves more than this."

Chloe looked up as Oliver piled the last shovel-full of dirt on top of the plot they had picked out behind the cabin. "If Lex found out about us, there's no-"

"Thank you Chloe, I'm more than aware of the risks that prevent us from giving him a real funeral." He tossed the shovel to the ground, setting his front teeth on edge to hold back either his anger or tears. "I'm just saying." He stared at the heap of dirt, at a loss. "So uh…"

"I think Bart would come back and pummel us if we sang or left flowers."

Oliver let off a short puff of breath, almost like a laugh. "Well Bart…you were a real pain in the butt. And uh…yeah." He ran a quick hand through his hair. "Miss you, man."

"The world was never fast enough for you, huh." Chloe broke in, smiling. "You were a great superhero, Impulse. An average poker-player, okay typist…a lousy cook. But you were a hero."

They went back inside and started aimlessly tidying the place. It was going on dinnertime, but neither was hungry. Bart usually got the food anyway.

"How for crying out loud does Clark expect to fix this," Oliver demanded after awhile. "He thinks if he takes off to Metropolis again he can bring Bart back from the dead?"

"If he's in Metropolis." Chloe sighed. "Actually I'm not sure where he went."

"He didn't even say what he found at Luthor Corp," Oliver added despondently. "One step forward…three steps back."

"Just give him time. He'll come through."

Oliver looked at her then back at the pile of Luthor Corp reports in front of him. "Chloe…this isn't right. Bart and Lois, they weren't supposed to die."

Chloe sat down on the couch and grabbed last week's Daily Planet, not really reading it. "Yeah. I know."

- - - - -

Clark let go seconds later only to find that he was standing outside of Smallville High again. The smoke and flashing lights were gone, however, and the building looked like it had been much repaired since that day. Clark wasted no time. He sprinted up the front steps and through the double-doors, coming to a halt in the hallway. Remy Zero echoed up the empty corridors. He recognized the song as being one of Chloe's favorites, a single called "Perfect Memory".

"Spring Formal?" He said suddenly, his own voice surprising him. He ran for the gym.

The doors were standing open, and Clark could see the pink, purple and white lights dancing over the slick, wood floor up ahead. He came to stand in the doorway and the sight, the sound, even the smell came back to him like a dormant memory becoming vivid. It was indeed Spring Formal. As he watched, he finally spotted himself and Chloe in the center of the dance floor. She was positively radiant with her hair piled into little clips to create golden swirls over the back of her head. Clark looked at himself. Did his hair really look like that? How embarrassing.

Suddenly a flushed Mr. Grayson came puffing onto the stage. "Stop- stop the music, please." Remy Zero grounded to a halt, as did the dance. Clark felt a twinge of pity and guilt as Chloe's perfect evening was disrupted, the kiss cut short. In retrospect, their decision to try and remain friends was mutual, but he wished he'd seen just how much it tore Chloe up to do it.

Mr. Grayson went on, "The National Weather Service has just issued a tornado warning. Apparently three funnels have been spotted heading towards Smallville." The room buzzed with alarm. "Now- uh, please everyone stay calm. The twisters are going to set down south of here, but for your own safety, no one will be allowed to leave the gym."

Clark spun around to Chloe, worried. "Chloe my house is south of here."

"Clark your parents have a storm shelter, they're fine," Chloe insisted.

From the doorway, Clark watched the two of them in bewilderment. What about Lana? Was she not at the bus station? Clark didn't see her on the dance floor anywhere…and come to think, he hadn't seen Whitney once yet.

"Chloe…" he said quietly. "I have to make sure."

"Don't leave-" she grabbed his arm. "What are you going to do, walk there?"

He squeezed her hand. "I need you to trust me. Please?"

Chloe locked eyes with him. "I'll give them a call." She rummaged in her handbag for her phone, and by the time she'd pulled it out, Clark had vanished from the dance floor. Clark ran to catch up with himself.

It took them only a few minutes to get to the Kent farm. Clark came to a stop outside the storm cellar, watched himself run down the steps, and hurried down behind him. There were shouts coming from inside. The first was Martha's voice.

"Don't do anything!"

"Why shouldn't I? He tried to kill our son! Did you blow up that truck?"

A strangled voice replied, "I knew it wouldn't hurt him-" There was a loud crash and splintering wood. Clark scrambled into the storm cellar, suit coat and tie flapping in the harsh wind.

"Dad!" he shouted, taking in the sight of Jonathan attempting to strangle Roger Nixon by his own collar. "Dad- what's going on, who is this?"

"He blew up the truck, Clark," Jonathan bit back "He's been investigating you!"

"You're an incredible person, Clark," Nixon gasped out. "The world deserves to know how amazing you are-!"

"You will not exploit my son!" Jonathan bellowed, shaking the reporter like a dog with shoe.

"Jonathan please!" Martha cried, grabbing him by the shoulders. Clark ran in beside her, doing the same.

"Dad-"

"Get off me Clark!"

"Dad don't!" Clark separated his father from Nixon. "He's not worth it."

"He video taped the ship," Jonathan said sternly. "He has footage of you surviving the explosion, Clark. I won't let him take you away from us!"

"He's not going to!" Clark insisted desperately, turning to Nixon. "Where's the tape."

Nixon glanced nervously at the floor where his camcorder lay, then snapped his attention back to Clark, hoping he wouldn't notice. But he did. Clark grabbed the camera up, took it in both hands and smashed it flat, letting the pieces fall like bread crumbs to the floor. "Good. Now go."

Nixon licked his lips. "I'll figure something out, Clark-"

"Get off my family's farm and never come back again!" Clark shouted, causing the reporter to flinch back against the wall. "You don't know what I'm capable of; you don't want to ever cause trouble for us again." Nixon still froze where he was. Clark gestured violently at the doorway. "Go!" And Nixon scuttled away like a frightened insect, disappearing into the howling storm.

Jonathan and Clark went to the door and together managed to force it closed. For awhile, they sat in the dark, not speaking. Martha lit a lantern and set it on one of the shelves and it glowed dully against the musty walls.

"He's going to keep coming back till he's destroyed this family," Jonathan said finally.

"We'll just have to be really careful," Clark replied. "Put a padlock on the cellar door, do my chores the normal way sometimes-"

"For how long, Clark? Are you going to be glancing over your shoulder for the rest of your life in Smallville?"

Clark opened his mouth, shut it, and then opened it again saying quickly, "It's better than murder, Dad." Jonathan kneaded his forehead, nodding dejectedly.

The ground above rumbled with the brutal winds that cascaded over their heads and the lantern flickered and went out. To their surprise, however, the room was still lit. All eyes went to the vibrant glow, which was growing steadily brighter. The Kents watched in shock as the ship began to rise from the cellar floor, slats opening to reveal blinding, golden light.

"Dad?" Clark shouted, getting to his feet. "What's happening?"

"I don't know Clark. Martha-" he grabbed her arm, pulling her towards the steps. "Stay back!" Clark instinctively went to stand in front of his parents as the ship rotated on an invisible axel, pointing its nose towards them.

Suddenly a blast like a cannon came from its depths sending a wave of light at them. Jonathan and Martha flew back against the steps and Clark was tossed into the air and pinned against the opposite wall. "Clark!" he heard his mom scream as he fought against the force holding him there.

Then without warning, the ship shot for the cellar door, burst straight through, showering Jonathan and Martha with wood chips, and disappeared into the roaring storm above. The moment it was gone, Clark slipped down the wall, landing in a heap on the floor. His parents rushed to him, but he was already getting to his feet.

"You alright?" Jonathan asked and Clark nodded dismissively.

"Yeah- you guys okay?"

"Can't say the same for the cellar door," Jonathan joked. "Martha?" She was staring at the gaping hole where the door to the cellar used to be. "Martha."

"Mom, what's wrong?"

"Wha-" she looked at them. "Oh. Yeah, I'm…a little shaken up," she said smilingly.

None of them, of course, saw Clark standing at the foot at the steps. He licked his lips in thought. So Martha was still healed by the ship. Jonathan had said as much, and that certainly explained Lara, on the one hand, but on the other…the baby was meant to have died after Clark destroyed the ship, causing his parents' accident.

He still had no answers about Lana, which bothered him. But he couldn't seem to bring himself to go back into his past. The more time he wasted here, the more time everyone in the future had to get by without him. Maybe the answer to Lana's absence was in the future anyway. For now, the answers seemed to lie with the ship. Clark grabbed the crystal key and left his family's cellar.

- - - - -

"Mr. Luthor, I have good news."

Twenty-four hours. That's how long it had been since Geiger had let Clark and Jay Garrick go after their spontaneous break-in at Luthor Corp. Lex had spent every moment of those hours grilling each of the officers who witnessed what had happened in that alley, and decided that Jay-or "Bart" as several of them reported Clark calling him-was definitely dead. There went his last chance at tracking Clark.

Now Geiger stood in front of Lex's desk at attention, claiming he had good news. Lex gave him a sardonic smile. "Now what news could you possibly have the egotism to proclaim as good, Lieutenant?"

Geiger ignored the jibe. "Sir your TV campaign has paid off. A citizen from Westside, Metropolis has called in a report."

Lex sat up in his chair, enthusiasm unchecked. "When."

"Just hours before the break-in, Clark came to his home. He said he seemed agitated. Sir? He's the Metropolis Sharks' assistant coach."

"Coach Teague?"

Geiger handed him a sheet of paper. "Here's his gate pass receipt. He's on his way."

"Thank you, you may go," Lex said, his cool regained, and Geiger left. Lex swung his laptop open. Personal addresses were supposed to be hard to come by, especially for celebrities, but Lex had conquered that little barrier years ago. Nothing like having a fed and the Shark's press agent in your pocket. He was soon squinting down at two-day-old a satellite photo of the neighborhood where Jason Teague lived with his pretty wife and son. He read the information he had on each of Jason's family members, and a short write-up on the coach himself. Nothing jumped out at him. "What were you doing down there, Clark?" he whispered, tapping his fingers rhythmically on the desk. "What are you looking for…"

- - - - -

When Clark let go of the key again, he was standing in the middle of the road. Somewhere just outside of Smallville, but the looks of it. It appeared to be mostly deserted, however after standing there for several minutes, his ears picked up the distant rumbling of a considerably large vehicle heading this way. Moments later, the titanic form of a modified semi truck appeared on the blacktop, headed straight for where Clark was standing. He automatically stepped out of the way, as it came to a stop in the middle of the road and two men got out. The first, he recognized as Dr. Hamilton, Kryptonite-infected hands twitching at his sides as usual. The other was Lex.

"Doctor, I hope this thing is half as impressive as you say it is. My transportation crew has plenty of work to do without chasing delusions of grandeur."

"Mr. Luthor, I assure you this is beyond impressive. This is what you've been looking for." Dr. Hamilton led Lex around the truck and off into the cornfield that lined the road. Clark followed, as curious as Lex. They came to a clearing in the tall stalks, and Dr. Hamilton pointed with trembling fingers off to the left where something huge and black was glistening in the hot afternoon sun. Clark's stomach plummeted. It was his ship.

Lex pressed forward, nearly tripping on the flattened corn in his fervor. He reached out a hesitant hand to stroke it. "Is this…what I think it is?"

"Sir." Dr. Hamilton followed him eagerly, like a child showing off a prized art project. "You'll notice the shape in the device's hood?"

Mesmerized, Lex touched the indent. "Perfectly octagonal."

"Looks like we found the lock for our key."

"Bryan!" Another man jumped out of the truck at Lex's call. "Get the equipment together; we have a huge load to haul out of here."

"Yes sir, Mr. Luthor!" Bryan ran around to the back of the truck and opened the back, disappearing inside.

Clark watched in dismay as the three of them carefully moved his ship from the field onto a flatbed and then secured it inside of the truck. This was why Lara had been born. He didn't destroy the ship and run away to Metropolis because he never got his ship back. But Lex wasn't supposed to end up with Clark's ship. After the storm, Pete had found it in the field and…Pete.

Clark sat down on the warm pavement, watching as the armored truck disappeared down the road once more. With a feeling of failure, he reached into his pocket for the key, but stopped. Maybe there were still answers here. Getting to his feet, he sped down the road in the direction the truck had gone.

- - - - -

Clark stood around at the Luthor Mansion for hours as the new, priceless finding was processed and taken to the most secure room in the house for safekeeping. Now that Lex had taken a million safety measures and briefed the team who would be moving the ship the next morning, he was sitting behind his desk, typing almost frantically on his computer. Clark came to stand over his shoulder, and saw he appeared to be writing some sort of legal claim to the ship, to be handed in to one of Luthor Corp's top lawyers.

The door clicked open, and Clark and Lex both looked up. "Mr. Luthor?" the bodyguard who entered said. "Mr. Nixon is here to see you. He claims you will want to talk with him."

Lex looked irritated. "Did he now. Tell Mr. Nixon that I-"

"Would be happy to see me." Roger Nixon attempted to elbow his way past the bodyguard, who grabbed him by the arm and swung him against the wall.

"Sir I told you to wait in the atrium," he said sternly.

"Tell Mr. Luthor that I do tend to be apprised of recent happenings in Smallville recently and that I'm aware of his new findings," Nixon said quickly, letting the words spill out of him as though they couldn't wait to be heard. Lex looked a little intrigued, so the reporter went on. "I think I may have some answers to go with your spectacular new…item."

Lex nodded at the bodyguard who instantly let go and excused himself. Nixon straightened his jacket and tie, trying to get a little dignity back. "I suppose you know what this is about," he said.

Still a little wary, Lex shut his computer. "You think this ship has to do with Clark, don't you." It was not a question.

"He's not of this world, Lex, you know it."

"Roger," Lex said patiently. "You've been obsessed with the boy for months now. And have you found one scrap of evidence against him? And I do mean besides that alleged video tape he supposedly crushed with his bare hands."

Nixon looked offended, but argued, "Let me ask you this, then, Lex: Have you ever seen him injured? Have you uh- have you ever known him to get sick? Has he ever even been to the hospital, as far as you know?"

"I'm his friend, Roger." Lex raised both eyebrows derisively. "Not his big brother. I haven't known him all his life; I don't get phone calls when he's got a fever."

"Exactly, you're his friend. And despite all the craziness that goes on in this town, despite the fact that Clark Kent tends to be in the thick of it every time, he's never once gotten hit in the crossfire." He held up his index finger for effect. "Not once."

"You're going to base the Clark Kent's an alien theory on a garden-variety coincidence?"

"It's not." Nixon paused for dramatic annunciation and it was all Lex could do not to roll his eyes. Clark realized he missed this old friend of his. The one whose response to any skepticism concerning him or his family had always been fierce loyalty. "Lex," Nixon said with the air of someone laying down his royal flush. "He has no medical records. None, not in Smallville, Metropolis, nowhere. This kid has never been to the doctor. He's never had the measles, chickenpox, poison ivy-"

"He's a farm boy who works outdoors every day, Roger," Lex said spitefully. "He's probably in better shape than Oprah. You're telling me you've never met a teenager who hasn't been to the hospital?"

"That's not all I found in his records." He handed him a newsprint-quality copy of an official-looking document. Clark's stomach turned when he saw the heading.

Lex looked up. "Metropolis United Charities. So?"

"That's Clark's adoption certificate. And hey-" he added quickly when Lex opened mouth to reply, "I snatched this up fair-and-square. MUC only processed one adoption. Clark Kent's."

Lex's whole countenance froze. When he spoke next, a flicker of the Lex Luthor that Clark now knew was carefully hidden behind his eager eyes. "Are you sure?"

Nixon rubbed his hands excitedly. "Give me your resources, Mr. Luthor; I will get you video recorded evidence that Clark is not a human being."

"Not a normal human being perhaps," Lex said pointedly. "You're going to have to show me more than a photocopied certificate to convince me he's from Mars, Nixon." He looked down at the paper and did not move for a long time. Then, "You've got a week to give me something solid. You come up dry, the Kents are closed issue. Period."

Nixon was practically resplendent with satisfaction. "Yes sir."

Lex sat in silence after that reporter had gone, thoughts obviously still on the new information. Clark came to stand in front of his desk. "This is it, huh Lex?" he said bitterly. Lex's eyes remained unfocussed in thought. "You threw away our friendship for your own curiosity. I can't believe you'd collaborate with Roger Nixon. I really thought you were beyond someone like him, but you'd do anything for that insatiable desire for answers, wouldn't you."

Minutes passed and soon Lex was back to typing, utterly unaware of the young man watching him from behind his desk. Then the phone rang. "Lex Luthor…Dad." Lex leaned back in his chair, shutting his computer once more. "Yes I do. Now why would I want to apprise you of all my goings on? No sense showing my hand so early in the game." He smirked at something Lionel must have said on the other end. "If you were so intrigued, you should have come yourself…Really. The 747, how intrepid. Well, then, I guess I will see you tomorrow morning. Bright and early…Can't wait." He hung up in that sudden, precise way he had perfected over the years and sat in moody silence before getting up and pouring himself a glass of brandy. He lifted it to an invisible person. "Here's to you, Dad. In hopes that you'll still find a hole or two to poke in my new project." He took a deep drink and set the glass down with a "clack", a strange smile on his wet lips. "Best of luck."

"Project Destination," Clark said quietly to himself and pulled the key from his pocket. "Looks like you got the approval you always wanted, Lex."

- - - - -


	13. Thirteen

- - - - -

Clark must have gone forward almost a year before he realized he had no idea where to go next. When he released the key, he was standing in his loft and made himself comfortable on the familiar wooden steps, too tense to feel really comfortable at all.

So far, Pete's death explained his imprisonment at Luthor Corp. With that ship in-hand and Roger Nixon's assistance, it was only a matter of time until Lex drew the connection between Clark and Dr. Hamilton's discovery from outer space. But what explained Pete's death? Lana. The one answer that made sense. Without Lana, there was no jealous Whitney, which explained why Clark was not made the scarecrow. And even if for some reason the Smallville jocks had decided Clark was a loser anyway, without Lana there was no Kryptonite necklace either.

From there on, everything else made sense. Eric Summers was the scarecrow, and just like Jeremy had predicted, he must either died or at least ended up in the wrong place at the wrong time to have ever stolen Clark's powers away; otherwise, Lex would have a record of seeing Clark injured. Clark would also have a hospital record.

So he came back to his original question: What had happened to Lana? Had someone, for some reason, gone back in time and killed her? But why. Who would-

Clark stood up, a new thought occurring to him. Whom did he know who would have the ability to tamper with the past and future? Someone who would go after Lana in particular. A sultry voice, smooth like melted and bitter chocolate came from Clark's memory as though in a nightmare. "_Bear witness, Clark Kent, to the dawn of a new age." _Countess Margaret Isobel Thoroux.

- - - - -

"Coach Teague." Lex extended his hand cordially and Jason shook it firmly. "A pleasure to finally meet you in person."

"You too, Mr. Luthor," he replied with a fixed smile. "Not every day you meet a millionaire."

"Please just call me Lex." Lex noted Jason's expression with unease, but continued pleasantly, "I'm told the team's worked up for another good season. I can't wait."

"Don't take this the wrong way, Mr. Luthor, but I didn't drive an hour across Metropolis to talk about the Sharks."

"Right you are." Lex stood from his desk and offered Jason a cigar, which the coach declined. Lex smoothly stowed the box away in a deep drawer. "Tell me then, why the impromptu visit from Mr. Kent?"

"Honestly?" Jason crossed his arms and legs, the picture of irritation. "You tell me. He escapes from your facility and makes a b-line for my house. He thinks my wife Lana is his long-lost high school sweetheart or something."

"Mr. Teague."

"You may as well call me Jason, Lex," he said curtly. Lex put on his most earnest smile.

"Jason then. I assure you-"

"Aw c'mon." Jason shot out of his chair as though there was a springboard beneath him. "You know when your corporation informed the world that they had a flipping alien, you also promised he'd be kept under close supervision. Alright, and people have counted on the great Lex Luthor to take his millions and make sure Clark Kent the superhuman never hits the streets."

"Jason, your anger is reasonable." Lex went on as though treading on broken glass, trying very hard not to sound patronizing. "I'm going to be completely open with you, since you clearly deserve the honesty. Clark suffered minor memory alteration in an operation we performed a few days ago. He's practically catatonic with the effects and we need to get him help as soon as possible before he goes after any further phantom memories such as the one that led him to your home."

To his relief, Jason seemed receptive to this theory. He was suddenly less irritated and more intrigued. "Phantom memories. You're sure, it's not…something else."

"My physicians are certain, Jason. Clark needs psychological assistance. Any information you can provide us would be invaluable." Now he was in full empathy mode. He was this man's best friend, and the friend of his family. His own bodyguard concerned only with the Teagues' safety. "Jason. Tell me everything you can about Clark's visit. I don't want him to hurt anyone any more."

Jason eased into the leather office chair again, looking more comfortable with Lex's company by the minute. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees as though he were chatting with his therapist. "He said he went to Smallville High and heard about my wife Lana's mom. He said he wanted to uh…to do an interview with Lana."

Lex noted the dubious tone. "You didn't believe him."

Jason chewed his bottom lip and his eyebrows shot up. "Next thing I know he's busting down my door, yelling to Lana like she's his Juliette or something. I'm telling you, if Clark was a normal human being, I'd think he was on drugs or something. The guy was screaming like a maniac, looking at Lana like…I dunno what. I hated it, though, I swear- if he ever comes back…" Jason seemed to think his threat was too strong to verbalize, so he fell silent.

Lex leaned cautiously across his desk. "I have an idea you may not like."

"Does this plan involve putting Clark back in that lead cage of his?"

Lex laughed genially. "Jason, my staff and I have a great deal of respect for our protégé and we treat his fragility with intelligent care."

"Save the Greenpeace speech for your press conferences Lex." Jason's expression had frozen in a determined scowl. "Can you promise me measures will be taken to keep your alien project where it belongs from now on?"

Lex abandoned his false smile. "I promise you, Mr. Teague. I will do whatever it takes to ensure Clark does not escape this facility again. Now." He dug into his deep drawer and retrieved the cigar box again. "Would you like to hear my plan?"

- - - - -

"Chloe?" Oliver ran out the front door in time to see Chloe throwing her last suitcase into the back of her car. She was about to climb in when he shouted to her and she looked up briefly, and then got into the front seat. "Chloe wait-!" he made it to her car as she gunned the engine to life, and rapped his knuckles on the window. "Chloe, c'mon open up." She hesitated, then reluctantly rolled the window down.

"I'm going to find him," she said tersely. "Don't try and stop me, Oliver."

"Where you even going to look, huh? He goes supersonic and he could be in Africa for all you know."

"I can't just sit around waiting for him to come back! I'll go somewhere I know he'd go eventually."

"I thought we agreed not to bring the Kents into this."

"I'm not." She reached into her purse, pulled out a printout from Map Quest and handed it to him.

"Westside Metropolis?"

"I'm going to see Lana Lang."

"You don't even know Lana Lang, Chloe," he said wearily. "Think this through."

"I have. And I'll tell you something, Oliver, if Clark thinks he knows this girl Lana, then I believe him," she said fiercely, leaving Oliver silent for a moment. "Look," she went on, softer now, "you said it yourself; this isn't right. And I think Clark's the only one who knows why."

"And what could the explanation possibly be. We're living in some freakish nightmare? You'd believe that Chloe, really?"

Chloe rubbed tired fingers to her eyes and nodded. "With everything I've seen I'm ready to believe a lot of things."

With the air of someone stopping their friend from having "one more shot", Oliver reached through the window and turned the engine off. Chloe just sat in the silence, her face perturbed only because it seemed like the emotion she should be feeling. "You've already done so much. The article?"

Chloe rolled her eyes. "I don't even know they'll publish it."

"It's an exclusive with the Destination Project himself. They'll run it." She just chewed her lip, her thoughts apparent. _It's just not enough. It's never enough. _Maybe he was just overlaying his own thoughts on her. "Chloe don't go. Look, I am sick of losing people. All I ask is you come back to the mansion with me and wait. Just wait until Clark shows up; he'll probably look for us there anyway. Please?"

Chloe's fingers, which were curled tightly around the top of the wheel like tiny vines, loosened, sending her hands gliding downwards to rest on the horn. "Lois always said you were eloquent."

"She always had good taste." He raised an eyebrow. "Did…she really use the word 'eloquent'?"

"I think the phrase was, 'he's like David Coverdale with better hair'."

Oliver winced, and ran a hand over his head. "Yeah, let's hope so."

She grinned at him and let her hands fall into her lap. "Thanks Ollie."

- - - - -

There wasn't a sound. Not a breeze stirred the rocks, not a foot disturbed the leaf-strewn ground. Not a soul. Only Clark and the thoughts that buzzed so loudly in his ears, he was sure the ground above would vibrate from the noise.

Egypt, South America, China and now he stood in the Kawatche Caves. Or what was supposed to be the Kawatche Caves. The stalagmites five feet thick, the high-vaulted dirt ceiling, the drawings he knew so well, and the octagonal indent in wall, all were there. But they were deserted. Buried underground for years, eternally forgotten. The memory of Clark and Pete's dirt bike race caught up with him, the sight of him flying over his handlebars and falling through the ground playing on a monotonous loop in his head. _But Pete wasn't there to race me. No one found these caves._

Clark had run all over the world in the past several hours, cavalier with his abilities, which no one could see anyway. He had searched Egypt, Honduras and Shanghai for the one thing he knew Isobel was always set on. The three Stones of Power. But the three elements were gone. Not vanished, but destroyed. Without the ability to touch anything with his hands, Clark used x-ray vision to search the places the stones were meant be. Fragments. Just shattered crumbs of the powerful Kryptonian crystals. It would seem that someone had removed them, smashed them somehow, and then returned them to their hiding places to remain undiscovered.

But why would the countess destroy the Stones of Power? Her plan had been to use them, she had told Clark this. What if Isobel somehow realized that her current plan ended up leading her to Clark and consequently, her own destruction? If she discovered this, then perhaps she had gone after Lana a different way. And maybe destroying the stones was the only way she could think of to mess with Clark's fate.

"What did you do?" Clark asked, as though she were standing there listening. "How did you remove Lana from my life…?"

The answers weren't back here anymore. He needed to return to his future and find Isobel. Somehow. He squeezed the key, leaving the Kawatche Caves behind him, and shooting forward like a bullet towards the present-day.

Through the dizzying onslaught of image and sound, Clark suddenly caught something that struck him as familiar. Like a dream he'd had, or perhaps something he had seen while in Dr. Garner's memory treatment. He let go and was instantly standing in the snow behind a very weatherworn house. Not six feet ahead of him, a nondescript black van was parked and just a short ways from there, an old, tan car with its trunk open and its engine idling. The whole scene seemed strangely familiar to Clark. Then he felt someone brush past him, and looked down in time to see a handsome, golden dog skitter to a halt, eyes fixed on the black van.

Clark blinked down at him. "Shelby?" The dog didn't look up, but Clark was sure.

There were two boys there as well. One was spraying the black van down with gasoline, the other running back and forth between the van and rusted car with strangely shaped tan bags. Clark felt Shelby take off and with a strong sense of familiarity, he went to the open van and looked inside. He saw himself, huddled against the wire front of Shelby's cage as the pool of liquid Kryptonite spread before him. This was the day he'd rescued "Einstein" from the Greenfield brothers.

He heard footsteps beside him, and moved out of the way as the eldest brother, Josh, approached the van, the jug of gasoline still in hand. He set it on van's bumper and leaned in, surveying Clark. "Well. You just had to be a hero, didn't ya." Clark was too weak to respond, his breath coming out in short gasps. Josh went on coolly. "Sometimes heroes get burned."

Zack came to stand behind him, watching impassively as Josh sprayed the rest of the gasoline over the van's back bumper, tossing the empty can on the ground. Josh stalked away and Zack went forward, eyes falling first on Hercules, Shelby's Rotweiler partner, and then reluctantly on Clark. The boy's gaze locked with Clark's desperate eyes, and he turned, suddenly afraid, snatching up the last couple bags of money and chasing after Josh.

"Are you sure about this?" he demanded.

"He saw our faces, we can't let him walk."

"This wasn't part of the plan!"

Josh whirled. "The plan's working, okay? We got the money and we're almost outa here." He grabbed his brother's shoulder, squeezing it a little. "You're not gonna chicken out of me now, are ya? Huh?"

Zack just stared back at first. "What about Lex."

Josh looked exasperated and a little tired, like they'd trampled this ground before. "What about Lex, bro…"

"He said he'd make us an offer we couldn't refuse. Remember? He said to give him reports on all our findings, and if we got something interesting he'd make it worth our while." Josh rolled his eyes. "Remember?" Zack said pleadingly.

"Listen to me. The heck is Lex Luthor going to do with a snoop like this guy?"

"You saw him, man, there's something weird about him. Why's he so interested in Einstein, anyway? And why is acting like this?"

"Probably scared of getting incinerated."

"But didn't you notice how he got really bad when you put him in the cage with the busted vials in front of it? Maybe he's got some weird allergy to the formula we used on the dogs."

"That's lame."

"Well why's he acting so sick?"

Josh's irritation rose. "Gets vertigo easy, man, I dunno. It doesn't matter, he'd turn us in!"

"Just- call Lex. Please." Josh searched his little brother's face and must have found a very genuine request he couldn't refuse.

"A'ight, Zack, you win." He pulled out his cell phone and dialed. "But it's your hide if he comes after us for using the dogs to steal the truck." Zack just nodded and they both waited as the phone rang. "Hey Lex, it's Josh Greenfield…uh-huh…yeah sorta. My brother and I were- taking the dogs for a test-run, and some guy jumped into the back of our truck and set Einstein loose…I don't know why…Well, my brother's got this idea that there's something weird about him. He's acting kinda strange around the serum we used on the dogs, like he's gonna throw up or something." Something Lex said made Josh cast Zack a surprised look. "Uh- okay. Yeah…you got it, half-hour. No he won't get away, I swear." He snapped the phone shut and took Zack by the shoulders. "Bro? We're gonna be rich."

Josh made a break for the car, slamming the trunk and Zack ran to follow him, his face a picture of bewilderment. "What'd he say?"

"Luthor's paying us fifty grand, man, each!" Zack's jaw dropped. "That's right."

"Why?"

"This guy's reaction to the serum sparked some real interest. Luthor just wants our stowaway and our silence, that's it."

Zack began showing the same excitement and helped his brother hide the car behind one of the houses, then got into the van, completely keyed up now. Josh went to shut the back doors, pausing to look in at Clark once more.

"It's off to Lex Luthor with you, my friend," he said icily.

Clark was still panting painfully, but whispered, "Please…you don't…understand-" Josh slammed both doors swiftly as though he hadn't heard him and practically skipped to the driver side, jumping in beside his brother.

"You and me, buddy, we are going to be like- millionaires." Zack said something doubtful that made Josh laugh. "I have no idea why he's being so generous, but man- we are rich! Filthy, stinking rich, man, wooh!"

Zack joined in on the hysterical laughter and Josh gunned up the engine. With a lurch that made Hercules yelp and Clark grunt harshly, the van rumbled off down the graveled road.

Clark ran ahead to Luthor Corp and was standing in the parking lot a half-hour later when the van pulled up. He knew there was really nothing left to be learned here. The answers he was looking for lay with Lana, Isobel, possibly even Jor-El, but not Lex. However, Clark's morbid curiosity held him to the spot as Josh jumped out from the sleek, black cab and turned to meet the entourage that had showed up to greet him, Lex at their head.

"Mr. Luthor." He extended his hand with a cordiality that looked strange on him and Lex shook it tightly. "He's in the back."

"I have to tell you, Mr. Greenfield," Lex said conversationally as the whole group walked to the van, "I have searched for someone who shows an abnormal connection to the meteor rocks for several years now."

"Glad I could help." He paused, hand on the door. "Mind if I see some good faith up front?" Lex's expression froze for a moment, but he pulled an impressive-looking wallet from his coat and tore out a check from the top of the stack. It was already filled out for half the payment. Josh nodded. "That'll do." He pocketed it and tugged the door open.

Clark feebly lifted his head, squinting in the bright light. Lex looked as though someone just shot him in the back. Here was the moment Clark knew Lex had been dreading since Nixon posed his theory that Clark was an alien. He had bided his time ever since, but finally Clark Kent was served to him on a silver, kidnapping-free platter. Take that, Lionel Luthor. This was his big break. And he took it.

"Get him on out of there." Two men pushed past Josh, who hit the switch to release the cage door. Clark, who had been leaning against the bars, fell limply to the floor and the two grabbed him under the arms, dragging him out into dimming sunlight. They propped him up on both feet between them and Lex stood uncertainly in front of him. "Lex…" Clark whispered, barely holding his head up. "Lex help me." Doubt clouded the young Luthor's expression.

"Clark," he said after a pause, "I just have some questions, maybe a few tests. Alright?"

Clark nodded noncommittally. Now that he was outside the van, a little of his strength was returning. His feet slid to a standing position on the gravel and his arms held tighter to the men on either side of him. Like a feather in a hurricane, the doubt vanished, replaced by a businessman with a bottom-line. Lex turned to a woman just over his shoulder. "Dr. Neiman, the rock please?"

Dr. Neiman rushed forward holding a leather cord with a small meteor rock strung on it. She attempted to slip it around Clark's neck, but he jerked his head around just enough to frustrate her efforts. Glancing hotly up at Clark, she stuffed it in his pocket instead. Clark grunted in pain as his knees went lax, sending him plummeting downward, barely held off the ground by the Luthor Corp employees on either side of him.

Lex motioned another doctor in a spotless lab coat forward, referring to him as Dr. Grant. He was shoving a collapsible gurney (the tough bar-formation type found in ambulances) ahead of him. Dr. Grant orchestrated the gentle transferring of Clark from the ground to the gurney, and strapped him in, wincing slightly at the agonizing groans that escaped Clark's tense throat. "Let's get him inside," he said to the employees, who obediently whisked the gurney towards the double-doors that led to the plant's warehouse.

Josh cleared his throat as he watched them go. "Satisfied, Mr. Luthor?"

"Very." If there was any doubt left somewhere in Lex's mind, it was buried beneath a façade of calculated indifference. He gave Josh a courteous nod and went for his checkbook again.

"So…" Josh watched him begin to fill out a second check, shifting from foot to foot, getting ready to cross a line. "Who is this guy, anyway?"

Lex tore the check out with a crisp little _brrrip_. "Word of this young man's whereabouts get out, Josh, and you and your kid brother will wish you'd never taken this money."

Josh stank at hiding his fear. "Yes sir. No- no, sir, we're leaving. Today. We're getting out of Smallville."

"Good plan." Lex handed him the check, which he accepted gingerly. "Be sure to write."

Josh locked eyes with him, unsure whether to laugh or not. He stuck with waving the check as if to say, "I'm good for it", and then ran for the van door, hopped inside, said something terse to Zack, and revved the engine. In two minutes, they were swerving around the corner, out of sight.

Lex smiled as though he had finally completed an expert Sudoku puzzle. He just scored an alien and flushed the resource. All ends were tied up, nothing but possibilities ahead. Clark watched with a sickened twist in his stomach as the young Mr. Luthor turned on his heel and all but strutted to the back door through which his new science project had just disappeared.

Just like that, he had trashed a genuine friendship too. Curiosity was a beast with a merciless appetite.

- - - - -


	14. Fourteen

- - - - -

Something had Clark stranded at Luthor Corp. Nothing much was happening, so he didn't know why he could not bring himself to move on to the next major event in this messed-up flashback. Or better yet, return to the future. His conscience told him that was the correct decision, and his common sense concurred. But he couldn't move. He had to know, he deserved to know.

Lex had Clark wheeled into a "safe room", which was basically a high-security closet Lex had been using for any research he didn't want his father finding. Cameras were set up in each corner, and two security guards assigned the tedious task of watching the blue-and-black camera footage of Clark twisting pathetically on the gurney as he waited for Lex to work up the guts to come in and speak with him.

Hours went by, and still Lex was held up in his office, firing off emails, making phone calls, contacting lawyers, having official documents written up. He would have the rights to this boy before his parents knew he was a missing person, if he could swing it.

However, it didn't take long for Jonathan and Martha to find out from Lois that Clark had attempted to rescue his dog and disappeared that afternoon. They showed up four hours later, let in by a well-meaning secretary who had been told awhile back that the Kent family didn't need an invitation for entry.

Lex looked up, surprised, as the two of them strode up to his desk, each face a picture of parental concern. "Lex," Jonathan began sternly, but Martha put a hand on his arm, halting him.

"Clark hasn't been home for hours, Lex, we're worried about him. Lois thinks he might have gone after a stray dog we've been taking care of."

"Clark told me about the dog," Lex nodded, but did not elaborate.

"You haven't seen Clark or the dog, have you?" Jonathan pressed, stowing the cynical tone he typically used when speaking Lex.

Clark knew what was on Lex's mind; he was in a corner. He couldn't lie to the legal parents, that would look dreadful in a lawsuit. He cleared his throat and stood, adjusting his suit coat. "Mr. and Mrs. Kent. There's really no easy way to broach this subject, but…your son is an anomaly. I assume you knew this?" Martha blanched. Jonathan clenched his jaw so there was a muscle pulsing in his cheek. "Well you don't need to tell me, I have all the evidence I require to prove he has superhuman abilities. You may not like it; in fact…you won't like it." And here the old, respectful Lex peaked between the blinds of his scientist persona. "But Clark could do this whole world so much good."

Jonathan took a heavy, purposeful breath. "Where's our son."

Lex put his teeth on end, eyes darting between them, thinking quickly. "Follow me."

He led them to the control room, silently motioning a few of his bodyguards to follow on their way down the hall. When they reached the door, he hesitated, but one look at Jonathan's livid face told him he would be better off with the appearance of candor. He pushed it open.

"Mr. and Mrs. Kent, this is Thomas Raeli and Graham-" Lex didn't get a chance to introduce the second security guard. Jonathan lurched past him as though shoved from behind, Martha gliding dazedly after him. They had eyes only for the monitors.

Clark's struggles had become feeble to the point of near motionlessness. He still turned his head to the side occasionally, more to cope with the pain than get free, and his fingers flexed unconsciously at his heaving sides. "Clark-" Martha made a sound like she had tried to exhale and inhale at the same time. Jonathan just stood, hands clenching the rim of the desk on top of which the security monitors were perched, eyes struggling with the decision between rage and horror. He turned, a passionate anger boiling beneath the surface, hands balled at his sides.

"Lex? You will go in there now, and let my son go. Now." His voice was eerily even and from the shadows, Clark watched with satisfaction as Lex took a step back, genuinely shaken.

"Mr. Kent, you need to calm-" Jonathan's fist collided with the side of Lex's head and the Luthor Corp bodyguards jumped him. Martha screamed, Lex coughed blood into his sleeve and Jonathan fought back like a madman, until Martha scrambled into the mix and Lex shouted, "Stop!" The fray came to a standstill, Jonathan tense between the burly men in suits as Martha stood with both arms around his chest. Lex bit back the urge to let his guilt rise. "Let him go." Reluctantly, they released him. "Mr. Kent, there's nothing you can do. Clark was sent here for all mankind, and he belongs in a place where the world can witness what a miracle he is. It really is just that simple. I'll show you to the door."

Fistfights Lex could handle. What he couldn't take was the blank, helpless silence that overtook Clark's parents. He had them escorted to the downstairs lobby and should have been relieved they went quietly. But he knew it wasn't that they compliance, it was that they were too numb to protest. Their worst fears had come true and their world crumbled beneath them, stranding them in a black abyss.

When the small group reached the front doors, Martha turned suddenly as though snapping out of a coma. "Lex! Lex- wait." He turned, already on his way back up the stairs. "Did you drug him?"

"Mrs. Kent I wouldn't dream of-"

"Why is he in so much pain?" Lex cleared his throat and didn't reply, knowing Martha only asked because she knew the answer. "You have to get rid of it." She noted his skepticism and went on pleadingly, "You don't understand. Those rocks don't just weaken him, Lex, they can kill him!" After a moment, he nodded. It was the least he could do.

"This isn't over," Jonathan said bitterly, and taking Martha by the hand, shut the glass doors behind them.

- - - - -

Clark didn't think he had jumped forward very far this time, but when he let go of the key, he found himself in a courtroom whose calendar read 2005. This was almost exactly a year later.

Clark circled the room and found many familiar faces. Half of Smallville High appeared to have shown up and there were also a great many people in uniforms who appeared to be US Marshals. Jonathan and Martha sat behind a table near the front of the room (Martha was jostling little Lara on her knee) beside a well-dressed man Clark recognized as a famous lawyer from California. Juxtaposed to the Kents' table was a second table surrounded by Lex and his team of lawyers, each more surly-looking than the next. They were in quiet conference with each other, Lex pretending to concentrate on a stack of paper in front him, but clearly keeping his ears tuned for their advice. Clark went over to them to listen in.

"The long and short of it is, they may have a fundamental case-"

"But you have popularity push. We keep spinning this as the good for mankind, not only do you walk away with your project's go-ahead but the judge's blessing and a Nobel Prize nomination."

Lex eyed both of the lawyers briefly. "You don't just usurp a kid out from under his parents. The public hates it, and there goes my popularity vote."

A third lawyer spoke. His voice was low and gravely like he'd been to too many concerts in his younger years. "Mr. Luthor, that's what I've been telling you. Clark may have been seventeen when you commandeered him, but he's eighteen now. He's not a minor anymore; the public needs to stop seeing him as a kid, and so do you. The last thing you need is for the sympathy vote to go to the Kents."

Lex nodded, then said more than a little judgmentally, "I didn't expect for this to go on for almost a year, you know."

"Sir we didn't expect the Kents would have much legal backing."

"How did they get DeGarnel on their payroll, anyway?" Lex glanced coolly over at the Kents' table. "The man's practically untouchable. Tom Cruise couldn't afford him."

"Apparently the editor of Smallville High's newspaper who also happens to be a friend of Clark's, headed up a campaign to raise money for a lawyer for Mr. And Mrs. Kent."

"So much for your 'fear the superpowers' ploy."

"With all due respect sir, we didn't expect the news of Clark's identity to faze many of his closer friends. But we're not trying to win over Smallville's high school, and I doubt Clark has many pen pals in Metropolis. It's all politics, Mr. Luthor. And you know politics and Metropolis knows you."

Lex seemed satisfied by this pep talk, and sat alert as the bailiff rose from her chair, and said in a solid voice, "The court will come to order." The damp conversation hushed to last-minute whispers, then total silence. "This is Custody Case 97-KR-65, Kent vs. Luthor Corporation. The honorable Judge Gregory Wyatt presiding. All rise." They stood and Judge Wyatt came to his chair and told them to be seated.

The proceedings were like something out of a TV drama. People were called forward for testimonies (first, second and in Chloe's case, third time through). It sounded like this case had been chasing circles around Clark's future for the entire year, with Clark's friends vouching for his character while government officials, high-paying businessman, and various other rats from Lex's deepest pockets, repaid their debts and vouched for Luthor Corp's integrity.

It took Clark awhile to figure out where he was in all of this. There was mention of him being put in temporary custody with the Kents (under "supervision"), removed for safety concerns, and then put back again only a month ago. Still under "supervision", presumably for the Kents' protection. DeGarnel and the gravel-voiced man (who turned about to Lex's lead attorney, Frank Tora) kept getting into spats over tiny details of the case.

"Your Honor, Mr. Luthor is not attempting to undermine any of Clark Kent's rights. But the court must consider, he is no longer a minor-"

DeGarnel stood. "A fact Mr. Tora, that is irrelevant in cases of abduction."

"We have been over this, your Honor; Clark was apprehended while attempting to make away with Luthor Corp property."

"Yes, we've heard that before, Mr. Tora, we have heard it many times now, and still sans any details of the supposed Luthor Corp property the Kent's son is meant to have-"

"That information is classified and to reveal it would-"

"Gentleman." Judge Wyatt folded his hands on the desk. "I believe we were discussing the question of Mr. Clark Kent's safety to himself and others, were we not?"

"Yes your Honor," they chorused.

"Then will you please steer the questions back to that point. Mr. Tora, I believe you have the floor."

"Thank you, your Honor. Ladies and gentleman, we have heard many testimonies throughout this case. There have been positive things to say about every aspect of Clark Kent's character, his past performance in his community, his schooling, many, many bouts of glowing praise which could all be true. But my client, Mr. Luthor, has all the evidence we need to show what a danger Clark could be. Not just to those around him, but to himself. We are not attempting to take him away from his home, ladies and gentlemen, no. No." His grating voice softened a little to a gentle, preening tone that made Clark's skin crawl. "We are only trying, for the good of this country-of this world-to discover how to protect us from Clark Kent, and above all, to protect Clark Kent from himself. If we can learn this, your Honor, we could go to the next step: Allowing Clark to do what he was born to do. Use his abilities to better our world."

DeGarnel folded his hands calmly in front of him. "Underneath the word games, the charades, Mr. Tora, all we have is evidence to the contrary. All we really have are solid testimonies in favor of the Kent's son. What evidence have you, aside from speculation, that he is a danger to anyone?"

An oily smile seeped into Tora's eyes. "Your Honor, I would like to call Miss Jessica Brooks to the stands."

An all-too-familiar blonde-headed girl dressed in a low-hanging, red shirt and leather boots approached the stand. She plunked herself down on the chair, slapped the Bible placed before her with a set of black-painted nails, and swore herself in. Lex whispered something to Tora who began making "I'm handling it" gestures. Clearly, the fact that Jessie Brooks looked like an escapee from an Evanescence music video was not lost on Lex, who had been told she was their pivotal witness. It would help if she at least looked credible.

"Miss Brooks."

"Jessie," she corrected sassily, tapping her gothic nails on the varnished wood. Her voice sent shivers of unpleasant memory down Clark's back. There was a time he had genuinely felt for her, but now…it was as if she had glossed over, like a preserved reminder of something ugly he'd buried long ago.

"Jessie," Tora continued serenely. "Can you please tell the court what happened May fifteenth of two-thousand and two?"

"First day at Smallville High, I met Clark. On May fifteenth, I ran into him at a bar."

"Which bar?"

"The Wild Coyote."

"Please let the record show that we have already had a testimony from the bar tender of the Wild Coyote, describing Clark Kent as 'acting strangely' on the May the fifteenth. Please continue, Miss Brooks."

She leaned forward, suddenly keen to tell her story. Maybe it was revenge. "Clark was there with another girl. Short, blonde chick- didn't catch her name. But he wanted to dance with me instead, cause she was being a real party-crasher. She said she was going to bail, and he tried to stop her. Some guy tried to stop him pushing the girl around, and he got all hot under the collar. Pitched this guy straight across the room."

"Did Clark Kent know this man?"

"Huh-uh. Like I said, he just got hot. Then the bar tender tried to stop him with a baseball bat, and Clark sort of stared at the bat till it caught on fire. Then he tried to strangle the guy, and said, 'anybody else?' And I thought he was probably brewing for a fight, so I said we had to get the h-"

"Can you please tell us what happened the next day?"

She slid back in her chair, the first signs of the girl Clark had once pitied for her mixed-up life poking through like a needle through cardboard. "He came to my house. Said he wanted some…stuff of my dad's. Something he wanted to sell. I told him no, and I ran cause he started attacking my dad. I ran across the road and into a cornfield, but he just appeared in front of me, out of no place." Her voice quivered a little. Either Clark had done more damage that day than he thought, or she was just a good actress. "I swear, I think he was going to kill me. And then his parents showed up and told me to run, so I did. I ran all the way back to the house, where my dad was lying on the floor, half-conscious. I took him to Smallville Medical Center myself."

They could almost hear the sound of the tables turning. Red Kryptonite. Of all the injustices, Clark lost his freedom over Red Kryptonite.

He could tell DeGarnel was shocked by this information. He turned to the Kents, holding a brief, whispered conversation with Jonathan. It looked stressful and unnerving. Finally, he stood, straightening his suit. "Your Honor, I would like to request a continence due to unknown evidence."

"Mr. DeGarnel, were you not aware of Miss Jessica Brooks' appearance as a witness?"

"Yes your Honor, but I-"

"Then Mr. DeGarnel, you have been adequately informed. Mr. Tora, do you have any further questions?"

"Just one, your Honor. Miss Brooks, are you aware of anything else that Clark did during that week that seemed out of the ordinary?"

"Well he told me he bought a bunch of awesome stuff down in Metropolis. Maxed out his dad's Visa getting that bike of his. And yeah, if you're talking about his anger issues, definitely. He threw his dad into a car."

"Can you elaborate on that please?" Tora asked over the quiet murmuring that snaked through their audience.

"He just said, 'you're not my father, you never were' and shoved him into a red pickup truck. Needed some real body work, too, he dented it good."

"Thank you, Miss Brooks. You may take your seat." He brushed a regal hand down his coat. "Your Honor, I move that in view of Clark's unpredictable state, he be moved to a secure location where Luthor Corp's highly advanced research team can further our knowledge of him before he is left to the care of his parents who, by this testimony, may or may not know how to deal with his…special requirements."

"Your Honor?" DeGarnel said. "It has come to my attention that by this last statement, Mr. Tora has altered Mr. Luthor's case against the Kents from a custody issue to a question of Clark Kent's mental status. If we are to address this subject, my clients and I ought to be able to prepare for it with decent documentation and testimonies."

"Very well, Councilor, you have a twenty-four hour recess. The court will reconvene at this same time, tomorrow afternoon."

The gavel went down, DeGarnel muttered his thanks, and then turned to Jonathan and Martha. Clark crossed the room quickly so he could catch the conversation. "Jonathan, you should have told me about this."

"I promise you, Brian, we had no idea about this incident."

"So he's lying?" Jonathan glanced at Martha. DeGarnel sighed pleadingly. "I told you, you need to tell me everything."

Martha shifted Lara on her lap. "You know how he reacts to green meteor rocks." DeGarnel nodded. "There is also red meteor in some places around Smallville. When Clark's around it, he doesn't act like himself. Brian, he bought a class ring that year and it had a red meteor rock set in it. He started to behave like a juvenile delinquent, maxing out Jonathan's credit cards, buying a motorcycle, that's all true. But we didn't know about this bar fight. I guess he was too embarrassed by it to tell us once he was off the rock."

DeGarnel was kneading his forehead, rifling through his notes in an unnerving fervor. "So you're saying he does have the ability to lose control of himself."

"Only around the red meteor rock," Martha said defensively. Jonathan gave her hand a squeeze.

"What uh…what does this mean for the case, Brian?"

DeGarnel stopped shuffling and looked up. "We can still fight this. We have one incident in eighteen years and no one was killed. But…what I don't get is why you didn't tell me about this before."

"Because…" Jonathan glanced around briefly. The courtroom was emptying swiftly and soon the only people left were a few of Lex's lawyers collecting up their briefcases. Lex had already left. "Because it would mean telling you more about Clark than we were willing for anyone to know."

It was a surreal picture, Jonathan Kent telling someone Clark didn't even know that his son was an alien. That he'd come to earth in a meteor shower. Had DeGarnel not been the seen-it-all type, his shock would have probably sent him straight off the case. He stuffed a hand in his pocket, putting the other one to the back of his neck. "…Oh."

"Lex knows. At least, we're fairly certain he does."

"Then he's going to use that, Jonathan, you can bet he is."

"I don't think he will. Word gets out Luthor Corp has a matter of national security on their hands and not just another meteor mutant, Clark will be airmailed NASA. Lex is that determined to be the one who does the experimentation."

DeGarnel gathered his things up. "Let's go back to the hotel. We need to discuss this in detail."

Clark left the courtroom behind.

- - - - -


	15. Fifteen

- - - - -

Clark held on for a while longer this time. He strained his ears, trying to catch any keywords that would give him an idea of where to stop. Suddenly he heard his father's voice, shouting something Clark remembered from his last memory treatment with Dr. Garner. "Clark! Son you have to run."

Clark let go. He was suddenly in the back of Jonathan's red pickup, which was tearing across the highway like a bullet from a gun. It came to a wrenching halt, and Clark leaned down to look into the cab and saw both his parents and himself sitting in the front. Jonathan put the car into park, turning in his seat, hands trembling on the wheel.

"You have to get out of here." Clark shook his head, eyes set on the road. "Clark, thanks to Lex the world knows you're an alien. They're scared and ignorant, and with the government on his side now, goodness knows what he'll do to you."

Clark swallowed. "I can't just leave Smallville-"

"Sweetheart," Martha said shakily, taking his face in her hands. "You'll find us. Like you did when you came to this planet."

Clark wrinkled his eyebrows, emotions overtaking him. "Mom-"

Martha leaned over, kissing him quickly on the forehead, and popped the door open. Jonathan gave Clark a shove in the back, and hesitantly, Clark slid out onto the ground. Jonathan got out of the driver side, ran around the truck and snatched his son up in a tight embrace. "Run as fast as you can," he whispered. Clark just nodded, unable to find his voice. Jonathan let him go. "Go Clark."

Like a snake leaping from its dark hole, helicopters suddenly whirred overhead. Martha screamed and Jonathan told her to get back into the truck. "Go, Clark!" he repeated. "Get out of here now!"

Clark was about to bolt, every muscle taut for it. But it wasn't fast enough, and Jonathan did not see the red dot on his son's chest in time. There was a loud "SNAP!" and a tiny dart somehow appeared in the center of Clark's chest, a glowing, green pool spreading across his red shirt.

Jonathan stood for a moment, frozen in time, feet nailed to the asphalt. "No. No- no Clark!"

Clark swayed on the spot, wincing in pain and fell like a toppled tree to the dewy grass. His parents ran to him. Jonathan got there first and plucked the dart from his chest, grabbing him by his shoulders and dragging him into a sitting position. "Martha- Martha help me get him up."

"Mr. and Mrs. Kent!" someone was shouting through a megaphone from one of the helicopters. "Clark Kent is the legal property of Luthor Corp. For your own safety, please step away from him now."

Jonathan and Martha continued to haul Clark to his feet, leading him back to the pickup. "Just hang in there, Clark, just hang on," Jonathan whispered.

From the pickup bed, Clark watched in horror as one of the helicopters came in for a landing. It set down a good ways up the road, whipping a harsh wind at the Kents as they struggled to hold Clark up and get the car door open. Seven men in black suits spilled out of the whirring bird, and came at a dead-run towards the red pickup. One of them skidded to a halt, aiming a 9-milimeter at Jonathan's head. "Mr. Kent, please step away from the truck." Jonathan locked eyes with him, still supporting Clark's weight, not moving. "That is Luthor Corp property-"

"This is our son!" Martha shouted at him.

"And what you are doing is theft. Do you want to go to prison, Mrs. Kent?"

Jonathan shifted Clark's weight onto his shoulders. "Since when are parental rights a federal offense, Geiger?"

"Maybe you don't care about yourself, Mr. Kent, but you care about your son." They glanced at Clark, whose head lolled forward just as another red dot appeared on the top of it, casting tiny shadows in his messy hair. "These tranquilizers have refined meteor rock inside them, Mr. Kent. You don't want another one of them getting into Clark."

"Neither does Mr. Luthor," Jonathan snapped.

"Never underestimate your son's ability to heal."

Jonathan was still trying to think of what to say, when Clark found his voice. "Dad-" he said thickly, raising his head a little, eyes half shut. He looked like he was going to throw up. "You have to let go."

"Clark-"

"For Lara, Dad…Please?" And reluctantly-like it took the heart out of him to do it-Jonathan's grip loosened.

Clark slide forward and was snatched instantly out from between them and carried to where a stretcher was waiting a few feet away. Jonathan and Martha looked on in uncomprehending horror, as their son was strapped down, given a sedative and a dose of purified Kryptonite. Then, finally unconscious, he was wheeled away to one of helicopters, which lifted off moments later, leaving his parents alone in the middle of Route 8.

Clark still sat in the back of the pickup, almost as shocked as Jonathan and Martha. He watched with a sick knot in the hollow of his stomach as Martha fell to pieces then, and as Jonathan was so quick to hold her, so comforting in his words, wrapped his hands around her shoulders so strongly, that it was all the proof anyone needed he was just as lost as she was.

After a few moments, Clark couldn't take it anymore. Wishing suddenly he hadn't stayed, he clenched the key in his fist, the whole, horrible scene disappearing like dark, murky water swirling down the drain.

- - - - -

"How are we doing today, Clark?" Lex read Clark's entire medical chart before looking up at his patient. Clark was flat on his back, arms and legs motionless in their restraints and eyes dead set on burning a hole in the ceiling over him. Had the Kryptonite not been eating away at him, he probably would too. Literally.

"Answer me, please," Lex said parentally but it garnered no response. He set the chart down, posing over Clark's line of vision. "Clark. If you can't work with me-"

"If I'd known the person you would become, Lex…"

Lex scoffed. "What, Clark. You'd uh…you would have stepped to the side, huh? Let my Porsche sail right off Loeb Bridge and not lost a wink of sleep? C'mon, we both know you better than that. And anyway, in time I think you're going to see harnessing your potential now is going to save millions, Clark. Billions."

"You killed him." Lex's eyes turned steely, his smile fixed like a good idea gone bad on his face. Clark looked at him for the first time. "You say what you want to, Lex, you're the politician. But the Luthor Corp 747 doesn't just fail. I don't know why you think murder will make you become someone great, but you're no better than what you claim to be protecting the world from by using me as your personal science fair project. You're the cancer, Lex, you're the atom bomb. You could have prevented this. You should have."

The fire building up behind Lex's smile (which had crumpled into a disgusted little sneer) didn't deter Clark's accusations. On the contrary, it seemed to push him harder, until Lex had heard enough. As though he were whipping a gun from his back pocket, Lex pulled out a lead container the size of a ring box, popping the lid and tipping a purified coin of meteor rock into his hand.

"You see this, Clark? Do you see this?" Clark's breath caught in his throat, his fingers flexing. "With all your abilities, all your promise for this human race, Clark, with a single rock- with something the size of a dime, you're helpless. All your power rendered moot, all chances stripped from you. I won't be like that!" He slapped the coin onto Clark's chest, holding it there with a shaking hand. Clark's tipped his had back against the bed, jaw opening and shutting as he struggled for breath. Lex was too proud, too intent, and too far-gone…at any rate, he was beyond noticing his patient's pain.

"Do not make the mistake of thinking you're the only one who can thrash in the power of something else. Lionel Luthor was that meteor rock to me, and I will be rid of that disadvantage! I've come too far to be toppled by this!" He took the coin between his fingers and shook it Clark's face as though confronting his dog with a chewed-up shoe. "Such things are inevitable for you, Clark. That is why you cannot judge me for the ability to be rid of them." Lex returned the coin to its box and closed it with a stinging "snap".

After awhile, he said in a way that indicated the conversation they had just had never took place, "My father's wake isn't until tomorrow. We're going to test your speed today, so save up your strength."

"Stop pretending." Cark's chest was tight still, constricting his voice, but the fervency was there. "You're no martyr, Lex. You lost the fight against your father; you gave him exactly what he wanted. Now you're just like him." His face clearly said he took no pleasure in this revelation, but Lex seemed to take it as spite all the same. Maybe he just wanted to.

"And now look at me, Clark. I am the CEO of Project Destination, which will revolutionize this country. And you'll get to see every part of it. See you at lunch."

Watching from the doorway, Clark lifted the key to his face, noting the sweaty fingerprints he'd left on the clear, crystal surface. He had seen all he needed to see. It was time to return to his future and find Isobel.

The room evaporated in the mist before him, and just moments later, he came to a jarring halt and was standing in the Oliver's ramshackle cabin. He looked around him. There was a bizarre silence that both soothed and unnerved him. He realized how strange it felt to be back in the real world. He heard a loud crunching like a car rolling over glass and opened his hand to find the key had shattered in his palm, littering the skin with shiny shards like specks of glitter.

Clark went quietly outside, seeing the house was completely deserted, and sprinkled the glassy crumbs onto the ground where they glittered briefly, then dulled to the tone of sand. He hoped against hope that he didn't need any further information from his past to find Isobel. But where was he supposed to begin? If she wasn't after the stones, what was she after? And why was she no longer inhabiting Lana…?

A chilling thought occurred to Clark then. What if Isobel was still in Lana? What if marrying Jason, getting a job at the school, living a quiet life was just her way of biding her time until she could be sure Clark was a permanent resident of Luthor Corp? What if she had intended to stay innocuous until Lex broke Clark down in his lab, and then she would launch her plan? It would explain why Lana had been completely removed from his past. Why Isobel didn't just kill Clark, he did not know, but this was enough information to tell him where to go next.

- - - - -

"Jonathan! Jonathan!" Martha ran faster than she could ever remember running in her life. Her legs were taught and felt like they might buckle beneath her, but her mind was miles beyond such concerns. "Jonathan, where are you?"

"Woah, Sweetheart?" Jonathan caught her seemingly out of nowhere. Then she realized he must have been in the doorway of the living room. Martha's breath was shaky and she kept tucking her hair fitfully behind her ears. "What is it? What happened?"

"Lara, Jonathan, I went to pick her up from Jared Carson's birthday party, and Anita was frantic, she said the police came and they- they took her, Jonathan, they took Lara!" Jonathan had already gone for his coat and keys and grabbed her by the arm, heading for the door. "She said they told her if Lara's parents had questions to take it up with Mr. Luthor."

That stopped Jonathan. His breath quickened in a way that frightened Martha, but then he seemed to resolve himself. He took her by the shoulders just as she began to cry. "Listen to me. This is not happening, we are not losing-"

"He did it to get to Clark," Martha whispered, letting her words come out in one tremulous breath. "He'll take them both; he'll put Clark back in that…place. I can't stand it, Jonathan-" she cut off, hands on her mouth.

"Come on." He said firmly, and they ran for the car.

- - - - -

Clark knew this was wrong. He stood in the silence for almost a half-hour and that was more than sufficient time to decide he was going about this the wrong way. But if he didn't risk scaring Lana, he also risked losing Isobel instead. So he hid in Lana and Jason's closet, waiting for Lana to return from the grocery trip she left a note to say she was taking.

After inhaling her perfume and Jason's deodorant for twenty-seven minutes exactly, he heard the popping of gravel and, not long afterwards, the front door closing.

"Jason?" He heard her say and realized how sorely he missed that voice. "Baby, it's me. You home?" Clark reached downstairs with his hearing, and listened to Lana put the groceries away, twisting the plastic bags into a ball and tossing them. Then her footsteps came quietly up the stairs.

Clark x-rayed through the closet-door and watched Lana put her long, dangly earrings away, swapping them out for a pair of diamond studs. She grabbed a stack of notebooks and a coffee table book entitled The Modern Art Index, 2006 and sat down on the bed. Clark his chance. He shoved the door open.

Lana jumped, one hand reaching for her throat in surprise, the other catching the duvet covering the bed to keep her from sliding off. She fixed Clark with the wide-eyed, horrified expression he remembered seeing on her face many times. Only, each of those times, he'd only seen that expression milliseconds before rescuing her from that fear. He pushed further navel-gazing away.

"Lana, I'm not here to hurt you." She just watched him, her hand easing off her throat to rest on her lap. Though, "rest" was probably not the way to describe it, since her fingers were tense, hand flexing ever so slightly as though itching to make a grab for the phone. "I just have some questions, I promise."

"You said that when you broke into our house a few days ago," she said curtly. "When you attacked my husband, if you recall."

"I didn't attack him."

"Then what do you call it, Clark?"

He opened his mouth, then shut it again slowly. Without their history, there was just no way to speak to her anymore. "Isobel." He said. Lana stared at him. "Countess Margaret Isobel Thoroux." Clark locked eyes with her and wouldn't let go, and as though in a headlock, Lana stared right back. But she was not unnerved, nor did she show any indication Clark had just said something meaningful. She pitied him.

"I don't…know what happened to you, Clark Kent," she said carefully. "I'm not sure what has been involved with Lex Luthor's study of you, and I'm sure there are things he has done that were outside the bounds of decency. It's hard to know how to deal with someone like you, the first of your kind, and humans aren't perfect, Clark. But I…" she swallowed. Clark didn't like where this conversation seemed to be going. "I think he really is the one person who can help you."

To both their surprise, Clark laughed. Lana jumped at the sound, and in her defense, it sounded more like a beleaguered cough than an actual laugh. "What are you trying to do, Isobel?"

The first signs of fear appeared in tiny lines across her forehead. "Who's Isobel, Clark?"

"It's not going to work. I know Lana better than you do, Isobel, you can't win."

"Clark I-"

"What's your earliest memory?"

"What?" Her hands were twisting in her lap now. Clark noticed that the phone was just a foot or two away from her elbow.

"Just-" he took a deep breath to calm himself down. "Just tell me what your earliest memory is."

"Uh…I was uh- probably four years old? My parents took me to the pet store to pick out a kitten, and I decided I wanted a chinchilla more. I named him Butterfingers because my dad bought me one after we-"

Clark put his hands out in front of him as though surrendering. "What do you want from me, Isobel? You destroyed the stones, what are you after?" Lana was still confused, which flipped a switch on Clark's temper. "Stop it, alright? Lana's parents died when she was three, I was there!"

"Clark?"

"I watched it happen, alright?"

"Clark please-"

"Stop it! I was there, I s-…I saw it." But a horribly fervent voice in the back of his mind told him the truth. _Look at her. Just look at her, Clark._ And the face that stared back at him was Lana's. The girl under the picnic tree. The girl next door. Lana Lang, in all her radiant, pink-sweater-wearing glory, was sitting in front of him. Not Isobel. Isobel was nowhere around.

Lana blinked, frightened tears appearing out of nowhere beneath lower lids. "My- parents died almost four years ago. A little girl Lex Luthor's father had been working on, she was messed up."

He looked at her. "Emily."

"Emily Dinsmore." Lana nodded, still afraid to take her eyes off him. "She ran down the middle of Franklin Street downtown, caused a twelve-car-pile-up. My parents were caught in the middle of it, died instantly."

"But the meteor shower."

"The one in Smallville? What about it?"

It felt as though Bart had super sped through the room, closing all the blinds and casting the room into total darkness. If all his assumptions about Isobel were wrong, then…how had all this happened? Clark was captured by Lex because Dr. Hamilton had discovered his spaceship. The ship was out in the field for Dr. Hamilton to find because Pete was not there to discover it first. Pete had died because Eric Summers was made the scarecrow instead of Clark. And Clark wasn't the scarecrow because, without Lana, Whitney had no reason to string him up in the field. It all came back to Lana. Somehow her parents had survived the meteor shower, likely taking her back to Metropolis with them afterwards. But how?

"Do you remember the meteor shower, Lana?"

Lana seemed to be getting more comfortable with him. Maybe she felt sorry for him, the way that captives are purported to adjust to the company of their captors in hostage situations. Her hands had stopped twitching anyway, and when she spoke, she was more or less calm. "Just a little. But not enough to form a complete picture. I remember my aunt Nell running inside the flower shop with me, and then a meteor came straight for my parents' car." Clark's head came up slowly, but Lana didn't notice the intense curiosity that sparked behind his gaze suddenly. "They told me that just before the meteor hit, someone jumped from the sidewalk and pushed them out of the way. Saved their life."

Clark was suddenly remembering like a vivid painting the scene he'd watched of the first meteor shower. _He saw three people dive for the ground as the first meteor hit, propelling a car ten feet into the air…_Did he…recognize that third person?

"Who was he?"

Lana shrugged. "Didn't give a name. How…did you know he was a he?"

When Clark was a little boy, at least in his real past, he had begged and pleaded for Jonathan to let him help fix the tractor. Jonathan had given him a simple task: Pop that bar into that hole. So afraid of bending the bar, he had tried to be fantastically careful, the result being he spent a half-hour on the same task and still couldn't get it to go in. Finally, he realized if he shoved it as hard as he could from the top, he could use his super-strength without ruining the bar.

Clark could almost hear the clank of that bar snapping into its place as the wheels in his head stopped whirring, the truth hitting him instantaneously. It was the feeling of coming out of the fog and seeing a cityscape before you. Revelation. Then, as though on cue, the door downstairs banged open and they both heard Jason calling, "Lana? Lana!"

Lana fixed her eyes on Clark and shouted, "Jason I'm upstairs!"

There was a prolonged pause, a series of beeps as a ten-digit number was punched into a cell phone, and then careful footsteps punctuated only but a few squeaky stairs. Moments later, Jason appeared in the doorway, hands in the air, his phone still pinched between his right palm and thumb. "Clark?" he said slowly, acting as though Clark had a gun or perhaps a blazing stick of TNT. "What's up, man, I thought we conducted our business."

"No I don't think so, Jason." Clark said.

Jason glanced at Lana, eyes darting magnetically back to Clark. "Lana, you okay?"

"I'm okay Jason."

"Where's Dylan?"

"Daycare still."

Jason nodded, letting his hands fall a little. "What's the deal Clark?"

"Lana was just telling me about her parents. About the guy that saved their life?" Jason dropped the phone into his jacket pocket, expressionless. "Name me one time, Jason. One time that meteor rocks have been exposed to a normal, red-blooded human and not caused bizarre consequences. My parents told me after the second meteor shower, one came straight through the roof and nailed you. They never found your body; they thought you'd been pulverized."

"I have no idea-"

"But you didn't die, did you? You were sent back to the first meteor shower, saw your chance to be the hero. You saved Lana's parents. You destroyed the stones too, thought you could keep her away from Isobel, maybe from Genevieve." Jason was either a good actor, or had lost all memory of the time altering he had caused. _Or I'm wrong,_ Clark thought, but shoved that thought rebelliously away. "And that's all it took. Lana moved back to Metropolis with her parents, you made your move when the time was right and married her."

Lana glanced from Jason to Clark. It was impossible to say what she was thinking, but she was horrified one way or the other. Jason licked his lips, considering this…or something.

"Look, I know you called Lex a minute ago." Clark said. "He can't take me down and you know it. You're the only chance any of us have. Jason-" and here his voice took on a beseeching tone he hadn't meant to reveal, "there are things that have taken place, things you never meant to happen…they have to be reversed, and you're the only one who can do it." It sounded so desperate, so…weak. He hated it. All of it.

Jason's expression had not changed yet, though he'd stopped trying to appeal to Clark's sense of calm, and settled for the piteous undertone of an apologetic adult about to punish a four-year-old. "Okay. Okay, so…maybe you're right. Maybe I did…change some stuff. And I'm sorry, Clark." Clark stared at him. This didn't sound at all like a confession. It sounded like a compromise. He noticed Jason's hand was easing inside his coat. "Let me just call Lex, okay? I'll tell him not to come here, we can discuss this. Just don't hurt Lana."

But what Jason whipped out of his jacket a moment later was not his phone, but a syringe. He lunged at Clark, who instinctively put his arm up to protect the shoulder Jason was aiming for. The needled hit his forearm, bent, and shattered into tiny splinters. Jason jumped back, letting the syringe clatter to the floor.

"It's not going to be that easy, Jason."

"Clark." Clark froze. Jason's mouth had not moved, yet it was definitely a man's voice speaking. He spun around, searching for someone behind him, but only saw the blank, bedroom wall. "Clark?" the voice said. Clark realized that his super-hearing had involuntarily picked up the quiet voice. It was someone who knew about his abilities, someone standing outside the house, from the sound of it.

He felt a feeling like the murky warmth of nausea come over him. "Lex."

"I wouldn't run, Clark!" Lex shouted, his voice now drifting through the open window behind Lana. Then he added quietly, in a voice that only Clark could hear, "I don't think your sister would appreciate it."

- - - - -


	16. Sixteen

- - - - -

"That's it, Clark, that's it." He loathed him. In that moment, Clark couldn't think of a time he had despised Lex Luthor more. Jason and Lana had retreated to the back of the room, huddled by the dresser as the three men from the Care Unit closed in around Clark.

"Where's Lara, Lex."

"She's okay."

"Where is she?"

"I told you, she's fine. I would just hate for you to somehow complicate the issue."

Clark ground his teeth. "I swear Lex if you-"

"Lara's going to be just fine so long as you cooperate." Clark bit the inside of his cheek, livid. Lex held a placating hand up. "Just- get down on the floor."

Feeling as though he'd handed in his last bargaining chip, Clark eased onto his knees. Dr. Kellman, the man who had assisted with the Silver K experiment, came to stand in front of Clark, unpeeling the protective backing off what looked like a small, flesh-toned Band-Aid.

"This is sort of like a nicotine or Dramamine patch," he said.

"Though I'm guessing it contains refined meteor rock?"

Dr. Kellman smiled indifferently at the icy tone, and stuck the adhesive patch behind Clark's ear. "It'll help you stay calm."

Clark felt the effects begin like a jet engine starting up. They were quiet, slowly growing louder and louder, until the burning feeling behind his neck had spread into the full-blown throes of Kryptonite. He crashed to the floor, feeling like flailing and lying dead-still at the same time. His fingers scrambled for the patch, but someone grabbed his wrist, redirecting it somehow into a pair or restraints that held both hands to his waist.

He vaguely heard Lana scream, "What are you doing to him?" Then he felt Dr. Kellman's hands on his shoulders, pushing him facedown against the floor.

"We should have used crude meteor rock; the refined substance is too potent-"

"Save your scientific work-up for the labs please, Doctor," Lex said irritably, and someone held Clark's head still while he jerked the patch off. "Swab!" An acid feeling that seemed half-hearted in comparison to the searing agony spreading through Clark's system appeared out of nowhere on his forearm, followed momentarily by the pinch of a needle. The pain ebbed away, replaced with dull, throbbing nothingness.

Lex's voice again. "Let's get him home." Two of the Care Unit personnel unbuckled Clark from his restraints so they could swing his arms around their shoulders. With the air of two friends escorting their drunken buddy home, they carried him off down the stairs and into the van waiting outside.

Lex turned to Jason and Lana, who were still standing with their arms around each other. "Thanks for your help."

Lana looked at him. "You mean you planned this?"

Jason fired Lex a hot warning, then looked softly down at Lana. "Hey, hey. You love me?" She swallowed hard and squeezed his hand. "Then just trust me when I say I only did it because I couldn't sleep, thinking he might come back here. Come after you or Dylan. Kay?" He turned his gaze back on Lex. "You were supposed to show up when I called you, where the he-"

"Let's not go pointing fingers yet, Coach," Lex said airily, and then looked at Lana. Judging by her hypercritical expression, she still had the writhing form of Clark the innocent farm boy on her mind. "And I promise you, Mrs. Teague, that though Clark is sick, it will not change the way we treat him; with decency and sensitivity."

She blinked. "Who's Lara?"

"Pardon?" She did not repeat it. "Oh, Lara. A friend that he made at Luthor Corp, one of the nurses who oversees his exercise and health. She got sick, and around when Clark's paranoia set in, he blamed Luthor Corp for it. Turns out it's just a flu."

He didn't like the way she scrutinized him. Yet there was something intriguing about her. Jason had good taste. "Is that the truth, Mr. Luthor?"

"You have my word."

"Well seeing your word is worth more than I make in three years," Lana said dryly, "I guess I'll have to take it."

He smiled as though she had been making a joke, and then glanced at the floor, noticing the syringe Jason had dropped there. He picked it up, examining the splintered needle at the end. "What's this?"

"My backup plan since you wouldn't let me have a meteor rock," Jason said testily.

"They're a dangerous substance Mr. Teague."

He pointed to the syringe. "Penicillin. I read somewhere that he was allergic."

"I'm afraid you read wrongly, human medicine doesn't affect Clark unless mixed with meteor rocks someway. But good thinking, all the same." Jason looked like he really, really wanted Lex out of his house now. He took the hint. "Well, let me know if I can ever repay the favor, Jason. You know where to find me."

When he had gone, Lana let go of Jason's waist, turning to face him. "What was he talking about?"

"Lex and I knew Clark would probably come-"

"Not Lex, Clark."

"What about Clark?"

"What he said about time-travel and saving my parents." Jason looked surprised at her, so she added quickly, "It just seemed to upset you."

"He's a lunatic, Lana. An alien whose mind and body are both getting sicker the longer he stays here."

"Thanks to Lex."

"Lana, I've been to that place. I got the grand tour; saw all the equipment, all the rooms, all the tests. They're gentle with him in there. They have to be." Then he said after a pause, "Why do you care so much anyway?"

"He just looked…"

He watched her. "Familiar?"

"Lost."

Jason's pulse steadied. "Yeah. Yeah I guess he did."

- - - - -

The bracelets were back. The rest seemed like it took forever to sink in, but when Clark returned from getting new Kryptonite bracelets fitted to his wrists, he knew. He was defeated. Stuck in this alternate reality. And the only person who could help would rather play dumb and live a lie. Clark knew now that Jason was responsible, no matter how good an actor he was. When Lex paused the transportation process long enough to give Clark a second sedative, he had asked him what would make Jason think Clark was allergic to penicillin. And that clinched it. But there was nothing he could do about it now.

Clark stared at his ceiling for hours, wondering how he could possibly be sending enough oxygen to his brain to stay awake. Breath came in short bursts, each inhale feeling like half the size of each exhale. He felt nothing, and yet he could sense everything. His hands were sweaty and useless and he could tell they'd added to the amount of Kryptonite imbedded in the bracelets. Outside his room, he could suddenly hear Lex talking to one of his lawyers.

"So the bottom line is no, Paul, I'm not worried. And I'll tell you why, this breakout of Clark's is an answered prayer. Jonathan starts getting aggressive again, and all anyone will remember is how frightening it was to have an alien on the loose. We have more ammunition now than we ever did to keep Clark under the microscope. As far as the rest of the world is concerned, our boy is officially a threat."

"Mr. Luthor, I know. I see- I get where you're coming from on Clark, but not with the Kent's daughter. That's what I'm worried about, that's the lawsuit that's going to go sour on your record."

"I've taken care of that. Come with me, I'll show you." Lex's voice faded as though he had stepped behind a second door. "This is Lex Luthor, copy?" The crackle of static. "Take Clark up to Holding Room 3 in about…ten minutes. He has visitors."

- - - - -

"I thought we were going to see our son." Jonathan had barely contained his outrage thus far, riding on Lex's patronizing assurances that all would be explained. Despite his self-control, the words "prison", "kidnapping" and "snake" had already been thrown at Lex.

"You are, Mr. Kent, but you told me you required answers."

"As to why you kidnapped a three-year-old girl from her own school? Yeah I'd like to see those answers."

"This way." Lex ushered him and Martha (who was holding a very nap-deprived Lara in her arms, and hadn't said a word to Lex since he'd returned her to them) into a room full of TV monitors. Jonathan was having horrible flashbacks of when they'd first found out that Clark had been detained by Luthor Corp.

"Graham, the White Room security footage I gave you earlier?"

One of the techies popped in a disc with a twenty-digit number scrawled across it, and the computer loaded a video file. Lex commandeered the mouse, skipping ahead to a shot where Clark was sitting, cuffed to the table in front of him, and Jonathan was kneeling beside him, one hand on his knee.

Jonathan's voice came through the speaker. "_Well uh…Lara is your little sister."_

"_I have a sister?"_

"_Yes, your um…" _Jonathan cleared his throat. "_Your mother was healed by the ship, remember? And-" _Lex paused it there.

"It's all I need, Mr. and Mrs. Kent. Your daughter's birth was made possible by that ship. So Lara's a part of this every bit as much as Clark, but we can work something out, I'm sure, that will keep her life out of her brother's. But first we need to agree to keep _his_ life…contained." He leaned into Jonathan's downcast gaze. "Follow?"

Martha held Lara closely and didn't reply. Jonathan looked up. "Where's Clark."

- - - - -

Holding Room 3 was a rather fancy, albeit ominous, description for what was essentially a replica of Clark's cell with a modified operating table where the cot should be. Clark was lying, spread-eagled on the table, each limb buckled meticulously down. An unnecessary gesture since the bracelets, which had begun to eat at Clark's energy since he got them, had now rendered him immobile.

When Jonathan entered the room, Clark's head rolled to the side, but it took his eyes several minutes to register what he was seeing. "Dad." He smiled. Jonathan felt something inside him slip and smash on the floor of his emotions. Clark lifted his head mere millimeters off the table, trying to see over his father's shoulder. "Where's Mom?"

"Oh." Jonathan approached the table, gingerly taking his son's hand. "She's uh…outside, with Lara."

Clark seemed to swallow something he was going to say. "It's okay."

"She's just tired, Clark."

"Yeah." Clark laboriously shifted his position, grunting with the effort, then lay still again. "Well, you know if I were her, I'd feel the same way, so…"

"What way's that?"

"Just…it's got to get old," he said, talking slowly between breaths, "visiting your incarcerated son all the time. Especially since…I'm not very lively company." He smiled. "Blame it on the medication, right?" Jonathan looked at him strangely and Clark felt the need to explain himself. "Dad, I…you know how I was forgetting so much?" Jonathan nodded. "I figured out why, and…there's nothing I can do to fix it."

"Memories can be replaced, Clark. I can help-"

"Yeah," Clark interrupted offhandedly. Something was lurking in his eyes, waiting to be said. But he didn't say it. "It doesn't matter anyway. The important thing is Lex swears he won't touch Lara ever again."

Jonathan let go of Clark's hand, bracing his arms against the side of the table, head bowed. "Clark? What do uh…what can I do? How do I get you out of this, just…tell me what I can do."

Clark took a deep breath, wincing when it peaked and letting it out quickly. "You can promise you won't let this ruin Mom. And that Lara will have the childhood I got. And you'll send me a photo of her when she gets crowned Homecoming queen." He smiled a little, his energy disappearing like vapor in the air. "And Dad…I'm so glad you're here. Part of me doesn't want to…let go, you know, cause I'd rather have you than…than anything else." His words slurred together. He was talking like someone falling asleep, saying the first things that came to his mind.

Jonathan reached for his hand again. "I'll always be here."

"Mmhmm…" Consciousness fled Clark's weary body and Jonathan left the room, not a thought in his mind. Only endless, throbbing feelings he had given up trying to describe.

- - - - -

"Yes, you have every right to call in your favor, but today we have a very important, very risky test we're running on Clark. It's going to be a breakthrough-"

"I want to see it."

Lex sighed into his palm. "It's classified."

"I'll sign something if you want, but if this is going to make history, I deserve to be there. And I want to visit him before the procedure."

"I don't think he'll want to see you."

Jason's expression didn't change. He blinked twice. "He'll want to see me."

- - - - -

Three days. Three days since Clark had been captured and returned to Luthor Corp, and already he was adjusting back into the routine here. He hated that, he hated it more than he could say. So when he heard the tell-tail clang of the cell door opening, he rolled over on his cot and stared at the wall, determined to be difficult.

"Sir please, for your own safety I highly recommend the restraints." Trently wheedled. The person he was speaking to made no reply. "Very well. You have ten minutes, then we need to get him ready for the tests."

"Thank you."

Clark sat up and turned at the second voice. "Jason?"

The door shut, locked, and Jason went to lean against the opposite wall. "How's it going, Clark?"

"What are you doing here?"

"I just wanted to check in. Make sure you're okay." This statement seemed too ludicrous to respond. "Lex said there's a big test you're doing today. Should be a major breakthrough." Before every football game, Jason used to go up to his players, take them by the shoulder pads and say, "You good?" before they went out of the locker room. Then, after the inevitable yes answer, he would say, "Alright. Go get 'um."

He made that expression now, as though he and Clark were on the same team. As though they were best buddies talking about an upcoming high school dance. "So. You nervous?"

Clark returned the pleasant enthusiasm with a tired sigh, swinging his feet onto the floor. "You can drop the charade, Jason, I know you remember what happened." Jason kept his face calm and artistically confused. "Penicillin? My dad told me to put it down as an allergy on my football entry form, so in case of an accident, no one would try to give me emergency medical care on the field. But you couldn't have known that. Unless you were once my coach."

Realization seeped down from his hairline, to his eyebrows and, slowly, into his eyes. Then he licked his lips in a way that betrayed his sudden alarm. He laughed. "Yeah, I…figured somehow you'd find out what happened. Don't know why or how, but you seem to always be one step ahead of everyone. Even with something as fantastic as changing time."

"So you did get sent back to the first meteor shower. You saved Lana's parents and destroyed the three stones."

Jason looked at him, beseechingly. "I was just trying to protect her, Clark. I was handed this golden opportunity to fix things, to make Lana's life the way it was supposed to be, you would have done it to. I just had no idea it would change…everything."

Clark felt his throat tightening. How do you ask a man to die? "You have to fix it, Jason."

"Clark, I…" He laughed again, but the wry humor did not make it to his eyes. "I can't pretend this was just for her. You have no idea what Genevieve did…what she turned me into. She used me to hurt Lana, and I couldn't let that happen ever again. It was the thing that gnawed at me all night and made every day barely worth living, knowing what she drove me to."

"How can any amount of happiness be worth this, Jason?" Clark demanded, rising to his feet. Jason stood his ground, unperturbed. "Have you no idea what's come of that decision?"

"I should think you of all people would be happy to take on some personal sacrifice for Lana's happiness, Clark," Jason retorted bitterly.

Clark felt that having his freedom, family and future stripped from him permanently was miles beyond "some personal sacrifice", but he had the feeling that Jason knew this. He was grasping at straws.

Jason cleared his throat. "It's not just you paying for Lana's new life, Clark. From now on, every tragedy, every death is possibly my fault. Something that may have been prevented had I left things as they were."

"What would Lana say if she knew?"

"She doesn't ever have to know, that's part of what I bought for her! I bought her bliss, isn't that what they say ignorance really is?" Jason looked like a desperate man, eager to find favor, just so he could be certain he wasn't a total loss. Clark honestly felt sorry for him.

"But it goes beyond me Jason." Clark sat down heavily on the cot, elbows on his knees, hands clasped tightly together. "Do you uh…do you remember Chloe Sullivan?"

"Yeah, course."

"She tried to save me from one of Lex's so-called treatments and got caught in the radiation. She's dying of cancer." Jason avoided his gaze. "I saw her bloodstream; she has meteor rock radiation poisoning. Chloe's not supposed to die of cancer, Jason-"

"What do you want from me?" Jason exploded. Clark hit a nerve. "You want uh- want me to go back, let Lana's parents die, let Isobel, my mom, let everyone take advantage of her? Hey- hey." He snapped his fingers at Clark. "I saw, okay, when I flashed back to 1989 I saw up ahead, I got these flashes of the future. Glimpses of what it looked like before I changed it." He advanced on Clark and seized one of his wrists, tapping his index finger vigorously on one of the Kryptonite jewels. "This man, Clark, the guy who put you in here, this is Lana's future. And it'll kill you too, Clark, you should see yourself the day Lana walks the isle to Lex. Lex Luthor, who takes and takes until there's nothing left but an empty shell. You want that? You want that for her?"

"Of course I don't." Clark jerked his hand back. "But Lana ought to be allowed to make those decisions herself, you can't construct your own future! I mean, look at it, Jason, you only postponed the Langs' death for twelve years or so. They died anyway, didn't they? Before they even got to meet their grandson. You can't just change random events and hope it'll produce a better future!" Jason just walked back to the wall, shaking his head. "Can you do it? Are you…able to go back and fix it?"

Jason closed his eyes, nodding slowly. "You don't get it, do you? If I go back, if I stop myself from saving Lana's parents and destroying the stones, I'm dead."

Clark swallowed hard. If he knowingly sent Jason to his death just to protect Clark's own future, what sort of a person did that make him? No better than Jason himself. And the thought of Jonathan…and of Lara…Lara, who Lex had tested while she was in their custody and found her negative for radioactivity, for now. Jonathan who would still die, someday. And Lois. And Bart. And Chloe. And Oliver, alone without any of them. And countless lives that would cease to be or that already had been run into the ground without Clark there to protect them.

"You have to do it, if you want to save innocent people."

"Innocent people will die no matter what I do," Jason said lamely.

"I know you care; why else would you come back here? You feel like you have to make it right, Jason, so make it right. Prove Genevieve wrong. If you had any idea of what horrible things have really come of this decision, I know you would change your mind. You're better than this."

The door clanged open loudly, and Trently stepped inside. "Time's up, Mr. Teague."

Jason nodded, and turned to look at Clark, trying to concentrate on his words only, on Lana's face. Anything but those glowing bracelets, these four, cold walls, the unhealed pinpricks on Clark's neck and arms. "This isn't about you or me anymore, Clark. It's about Lana. And what she doesn't know will never hurt her." He sighed with an air of forced finality. "Good luck with your test. I'm sure it'll go just fine."

Two of the Care Unit officials pushed past Jason and Trently, roughly standing Clark on his feet and buckling the belt of his restraints around his waist. Clark kept his eyes locked on Jason's as though he hadn't yet noticed the officials. "Stay and watch, if you like. Might give you some perspective."

Jason stiffened, catching the challenge. Part of him wanted to flatly refuse. Then he realized it was only because he was afraid to stay. "Why not."

- - - - -


	17. Seventeen

- - - - -

Clark was very quiet when led into Observation Room BT-4, sat in another dentist-like chair and strapped in. He flinched only slightly when the chair suddenly tilted back, and Dr. Kellman came in and swabbed his forearm with Kryptonite. He glanced over his shoulder at the bulletproof, UVB-protected, storm glass that covered the window to the observation studio, where Lex was seated. Standing sternly over his shoulder, expression tactfully unreadable, was Jason. Lex leaned forward, holding down the intercom button and speaking into a microphone the size of a tube of Chap Stick.

"Go ahead, Doctor."

Dr. Kellman went to the tray that extended to Clark's left, retrieving a device that reminded Clark of an electric tattoo machine. He loaded a capsule onto the back of the device. Clark squinted at it and saw something small and glittery floating in the clear solution that filled the capsule. "Wha- what is that."

"Just…lay still, Clark." Dr. Kellman approached him, device raised, and he may as well be raising an axe over his head. Clark shied away, pulling at the straps around his wrists. "Now- Clark," Dr. Kellman said warningly, lowering the device. "If you can't stay still, we'll put you back in the PosJ. Do you want that?"

Clark thought of the last time they'd put him in the Posey straitjacket, and not so much the frustration of it as the pain that wracked his arms and hands after they'd removed it hours later. He stilled, eyes still glittering fearfully. "You can't just put silver meteor rock into my system. What are you trying to-" He lifted his head as far he could, the muscles in his neck standing out stressfully. "What are you trying to prove, Lex?"

Lex hit the intercom button again. "Your memory faculties are good, I don't see why we shouldn't continue with the progress we began when you took your impromptu hiatus," Lex rattled off, redirecting his gaze on Dr. Kellman. "Can we please move this along, Erik?"

"Team on standby?"

"Team on standby."

Dr. Kellman lifted the device, aimed for the patch of skin he'd just swabbed, and inserted the five-point needle. Clark's jaw shot closed, teeth clattering against each other. "And…hold very still," Dr. Kellman said. He hit the trigger and the inch-long splinter of silver K shot through the hollowed needle and plunged through the tissue in his arm to his bloodstream.

Clark screamed. He cried out long, hard and desperately, every muscle in him straining against the straps that held him down. Dr. Kellman quickly removed his needle, taking several stunned steps backwards. The "team" Lex had referred to came bursting through the door and Dr. Kellman, who glanced over his shoulder just once, retreated from the room.

- - - - -

Jason couldn't help casting Dr. Kellman a despised glance when he hurried into the booth, taking a seat next to Lex. The two of them instantly began discussing the stats they'd worked out for success versus failure, the recording equipment Lex had had installed that would be capturing video from five angles and stereo audio tracks, as they consulted Clark's vitals, which were printing out of a gray device the size of a toaster. It reminded Jason of a seismograph, as though Clark were a volcano they were watching go off.

The team's part turned out to be disposing of anything Clark might use to "harm himself". Clark's cries had shrunk to haggard grunts and moans when they unstrapped him, lowering his limp body to the concrete floor. They unbolted the chair from the floor, and took it and all the other equipment attached to it, then scurried from the room, the last of them carefully closing and locking the door behind him.

"Clean Team clear, Mr. Luthor," he reported.

"Copy." Lex said quietly, but now all his attention was on Clark. His eyes, his hands, his whole body leaned hungrily forward, waiting for action.

Something about it made a weird acid taste rise under Jason's tongue. He was watching Clark now too.

He lay on the floor for a very long time, it seemed, until Lex could not wait any longer. "Clark, you okay?" Clark stirred only slightly, and then his hands came to rest on either side of his head, covering his ears. "Clark?"

"No. No leave me alone."

"Kal-El?" Clark tightened his hands, fingertips turning white. "I need you to tell me about your family, Kal-El. About Jor-El, about…Lara."

"No!" Clark cried desperately. It was not refusal. It was terror.

"I know about your family, Kal-El. Talk to me about them."

Clark panted as though wounded, climbing to his hands and knees. "I don't…I don't know-"

"We both know that's not true, Clark."

"It's uhh…it's true."

Dr. Kellman switched the intercom off. "Maybe we need to add some incentive."

Lex waited for a long moment, mulling the idea over. Then he turned the intercom back on. "You want to help us out, Kal-El."

"Don't call me that!" Clark snapped.

"Think about your parents." Clark lifted his gaze. "Think about your sister, Clark."

The silver splinter filled in the threats Lex wasn't willing to give with Jason standing there. Clark blanched, as his poisoned mind presented horrible consequences Lex would bring about, should he not cooperate. He shrank back, staggering to his feet and running for the door. He began to slam his fists against it.

"You can't escape me, Kal-El!" Lex called over Clark's loud banging.

"Let me out of here! I'm not…I'm not an alien!"

"Yes you are. And I need you to tell me about where you came from. About your home."

Clark whirled. "How do you know about Krypton?"

Dr. Kellman jumped. Lex's eyes glittered. He opened his mouth decisively. "I know all about Krypton."

Clark spun back to the door, yanking on the handle. "Hey! Hey- let me out of here!"

Lex turned the mic off again. "Erik, I'm getting nothing from him this way."

"Clark? If you can't calm down, I'll have to get the jacket."

Clark's panic turned to horror, and he fell suddenly, hitting the floor with a sickening smack. His arms wrapped around his chest, touching fingertip to fingertip behind his back, and no matter how he flailed and struggled, they refused to move.

"Power of suggestion," Dr. Kellman said with a nervous laugh. Lex ignored him.

"Tell me about Krypton." Silence filled only with Clark's stressed grunts as he worked at his invisible straitjacket. "Think of your earth parents, Kal-El. It's better for everyone if you just- calm down. Calm down, Clark."

Clark's breath caught. Without exhaling, he leaned his sweaty head gingerly against the floor and stared blankly at the wall ahead of him. "What…do you want from me."

"Just the truth about Krypton."

He told the truth. He told all the truth. About Krypton and Kryptonite, about his ship and his parents. About Jor-El and how Krypton was destroyed, about Lara's last, fretful thoughts as she sent her son to earth. About the stones, the Fortress of Solitude, the Phantom Zone. Every scrap of history Clark was aware of regarding his alien past spilled from him unchecked, each sentence coming out in bursts with his steadily straining voice and shortening breath. "And that's all," he finished at last, his body now wracked with the throes of Kryptonite poison. "I s-swear, that's all."

Lex was positively transfixed. Mesmerized by his patient, fascinated by every word he spoke. Dr. Kellman was vibrating with excitement, anticipating already the long-term results of all he was hearing. The two men who stood guard in the booth were shocked. Shocked, and pleased. Project Destination had just taken a giant leap and it was taking them all to fame, first-class.

Jason was sick. His stomach flip-flopped, his hearing becoming tinny and unreal. He watched in appalled silence as Clark twisted and squirmed on the floor, breath tight and fatigued. He felt as if he was watching him die, and no one else in the booth had noticed.

"Hey," he tried to say, but his voice was so hoarse it didn't come out the first time. He cleared it harshly, and tapped Lex on the shoulder. "Hey." Lex turned, making it clear Jason had inconvenienced him, and then suddenly switched gears. He was pleased.

"So. Impressed, Mr. Teague? And I couldn't have done it without you."

"Yeah, uh…" Jason pointed at Clark through the window. "Shouldn't you get that…meteor out of him now? Let the guy recuperate some, you know?"

"Kryptonite, Mr. Teague," Dr. Kellman crowed, causing Lex to smile, still looking at Jason, expecting him to join the celebratory mood. When it was clear Jason was far too uncomfortable to do so, Lex pushed his chair back from the desk.

"Well the test isn't over yet, Jason."

Jason cleared his throat again. "He's- he's a mess, Lex. I mean-" (and here some of his disgust peaked through, whether he had meant it to or not) "don't you see him? He's had enough- more than enough."

As though to prove his point, Clark rolled limply onto his side, arms tightening around his chest. "I swear, that's all! That's all I know-!"

"Clark just hang tight, okay?" Clark let out a wet cough that reminded Jason of the time his son Dylan came down with a ninety-two degree fever in the middle of the night. Lex spun back to Jason. "These tests sometimes have to be rough. Anyway, you'd be amazed what Clark can recover from. He'll be in his room with dinner feeling like a hundred grand by this evening, I promise you." Jason shifted to his other foot. "Look, if you don't like it, you can leave at any time. But to answer your question, no, we're not done yet." He gave Jason's forearm a smack. "Don't worry. We're all very familiar with Clark's tolerance for this kind of thing, he'll be fine."

"You're just slobbering greedy, that's your problem," Jason snapped, surprising Lex mildly.

"I'm sorry you feel that way, because I and this project are about to make history."

"Lex!" They all looked at the window. Clark's arms were tightening around his chest, the muscles standing out like mountains on a topographical map. "Lex- Lex, call it off! Get it out!"

"Clark, settle down-" Clark let out a strangled cry that genuinely surprised Lex this time. He switched the mic off. "Talk to me, Erik."

Dr. Kellman was consulting the medical readouts. "He's too tense." He tore off a length of the erratic blue and black lines, tossing them to Lex's half of the control panel, and jumping out of his chair to lean closer to the window. "The muscles in his arms are taught, he's going-" A splintering crack, muffled slightly by the window, came from the room. Jason jumped back, knowing somehow what it was. That sick, electric taste came back to his mouth.

"Lex he just broke one of his ribs." Dr. Kellman ran for the door, but Lex stopped him.

"Where are you going?"

"You said if we had a medical emergency, we'd abort."

"This is not an emergency, Doctor, it's a fracture. Clark's bones will heal, just go calm him down."

Dr. Kellman stood uncertainly for a moment, and then made up his mind. "Sedative or meteor rock."

"Kryptonite, Erik." Lex rose calmly from his chair, seemingly unaware of Clark's cries, which intensified with a nasty second crack. "Kryptonite will be more efficient."

Dr. Kellman ran from the booth, appearing moments later behind the window. He knelt down next to Clark and without hesitation (as though tearing off a Band-Aid) withdrew a lead box and flipped it open. Clark's breath caught, as though someone had stabbed him in the gut, his jaw falling open and his eyes widening. "Easy, Clark…easy." Clark muttered something unintelligible to those in the booth. "No, no I'm not going to hurt you. You just need to-" Dr. Kellman tried painstakingly to loosen Clark's grip around his own chest, and at last succeeded in prying his right arm away. He pulled up the side of Clark's shirt and pressed on the broken ribs where a thin stretch of Clark's side had begun to swell. Clark flinched and jerked away, falling onto his back. "Clark calm down!"

"What's the hold-up, Erik?"

Dr. Kellman sat back on his heels. "Lex he has three broken ribs."

"Is he calm?"

Clark's head tipped to the side and his left arm slid to the floor as well. "Yeah, he's okay."

Lex tapped the arm of his chair. "Then get out of there, I have some more questions."

Jason watched Dr. Kellman scurry from the room, leaving the green-glowing box behind. He watched Lex press his fingertips together like a pensive English teacher, eyes fixed hungrily on Clark. He watched Clark rise to his hands and knees, grimace, and drop back to the floor, curling in on himself like a wounded dog.

"_Hey, Kent. I need your permission slip, bud…what positions have you played?"_

"_None, actually. I've never been on a team before. My father wasn't too keen on the whole idea."_

_Jason glanced at him. "Your dad doesn't know you're here, does he. When it comes to defying fathers, I'm kind of a pro."_

"_I'm not doing this for him."_

"_You know…I've seen a lot of guys join the team so they can walk around in a letterman's jacket, because they want people to look at them differently. But football's just a game. If you want to change, you gotta do that yourself."_

Jason watched him cower in front of the Kryptonite. He watched the fight disappear from his eyes.

"_That's why I'm here."_

Lex ran a calculating hand over the arm of his chair, feeling it, caressing it. Self-assured and regal. Clark became still. Lex's eyes shone.

"_Alright. Let's see what you got."_

Dr. Kellman pushed the door to the booth open. "Woah- watch it!"

Lex turned in his chair. "What?"

"Teague, he just ran me over." Dr. Kellman jabbed an accusatory thumb over his shoulder. Lex's eyes swept the patch of wall against which Jason had been leaning, then turned purposefully to the window.

"Then I guess Mr. Teague is going to miss the climax." He hit the red switch. "Kal-El?" Clark coughed. Blood speckled the concrete. "Tell me about the Fortress of Solitude. And these magic stones."

- - - - -

It was raining and miserable outside and the warmth of Jason's house hit him with all its familiar smells like waking from a nightmare. For the first time, the nausea ebbed away, the horror he'd witnessed vanished. He was still alive. "Lana? Sweetie, you home?" He found her in the living room, fast asleep on their great, denim couch, Dylan's baby book lying open on the coffee table before her, pens and stickers strewed across the glossy surface around it.

Jason sat quietly on the edge of the couch, reaching over and tucking her hair neatly behind her ear. The gesture made her stir, and her eyes squinted open. She smiled when she saw him. "Hey," he said.

"Hey." She propped herself up on one elbow. "I was gonna…wait till you got home to go to bed."

"Aw, sorry I'm late. Dylan in bed?"

"Uh-huh. Practice keep you?"

Jason nodded, the lie coming easy. "Yeah, you know Jay Buckman."

"Always bucking the system," she filled in, grinning.

"Yeah." He laughed, appreciative of her memory. "Yeah exactly. Listen, uh…I have somewhere I need to go. Just- just for a little while."

Lana sat up. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing, uh…nothing's wrong. I just-" Just what? I just have to go back in time and fix a mistake? Jason leaned forward and quickly kissed her, then kissed her longer, reaching for the side of her face, and running his index finger up behind her ear. He pulled away like it wounded him to do it. "I have something I need to do."

Lana searched his eyes. "Jason, what's wrong."

"Nothing." He repeated and his façade kicked in. "Nothing's wrong. I just need to finish some things. I'll be up in a minute." He kissed her (_one last time…_) and smiled. "Kay?"

She returned his smile, her eyes tilting at the corners radiantly. "Okay."

Jason watched her climb the stairs, taking each carpeted step one at a time, slender hand gracing the banister. And then she was gone. And he couldn't follow her, or kiss Dylan goodnight. He knew if he saw that sleeping face, or heard the sound of his bedroom door closing, he'd change his mind. He'd have to stay.

With lead in his stomach and quiet reminiscence in his soul, Jason slipped into his office with Lana's camcorder, and closed the door.

- - - - -


	18. Eighteen

- - - - -

"Where are they, Kal-El?"

"Gone…"

"Where did they go?"

Clark's chest was on fire. A reckless numbness both burned and froze his insides. Any minute now, one of those splintered ribs were going to puncture a lung. It felt like they had already; blood stained his bottom lip and the front of his shirt, leaving dark, mud-like splotches on the white fabric.

"Where did they go, Clark?"

"Destroyed…smashed."

"Someone smashed the three stones? Who?"

_I can't take this. I can't take this anymore. _"Lex…please-" he coughed blood again.

"Who destroyed them, Clark?" Clark mumbled something like 'udno', and pressed his forehead against the cold floor. "What?"

"I don't- know-!" he said, inhaling sharply, eyes squinted shut. "Lex-…"

Dr. Kellman said something from Lex's elbow. "He can last a few more minutes, Erik. Clark, we just need a couple more answers. Then we'll stop."

A flicker like a harassed hope glimmered in Clark's mind momentarily, and then went out like a flick-lighter. It would never stop. After they got these answers, they would go looking for more answers. Repeatedly until they dug out all they wanted. Or until Clark died trying to give it to them.

Clark whispered something. "Clark, you need to speak louder, I can't-"

"Jason."

"What?"

"Jason…Jason, please."

"Mr. Teague went home an hour ago, Clark."

"Jason…Jason…"

"Stop it."

"Please, Jason. Please Jason, please."

"Stop it Clark. Clark?"

Clark tipped onto his back, lying spread-eagled on the concrete. His eyes were shut, his chest heaving, trying painfully to inhale. He felt tormented beyond his capacity, desperate beyond reason. "Ja- ason. Ja…"

He could see Lana sitting next to his hospital bed. He'd been shot, he remembered. Mortal and feeling it for the first time. He saw her dark eyelashes, her long, dancing earrings and her tears. He was tired, but he smiled. He felt her fingers on his forehead. Then like an August breeze through a September window, something warm went right through him. Ignoring skin, bones and reality, it jumped past him, inside him, and rose out of him, taking his breath away and leaving him still and silent.

It felt like dying.

He was dying.

Or maybe he was already dead.

- - - - -

"Hello?"

The sun throbbed on the back of his neck from the living room window. The kitchen was empty and quiet. His fingers were cold. He looked down and saw a glass of orange juice perched against his right hand. He pulled his hand away and looked around.

Clark was home.

"Hello?"

And he was holding his cell phone to his ear. He blinked hard, glancing at the phone before putting it back to his ear. "Uh- yes, hello?"

"Hello, I'm calling for Clark Kent?"

"S-speaking."

"Good morning, Mr. Kent, I apologize for the early call." Clark checked his watch. It was about 7:05. "My name is Tami Dench, I'm with Metropolis United Shipping, and we have a package for you that was sent here with explicit instructions to call this number and ask you to come down and pick it up today."

Clark blinked. "A- a package?"

"Yes sir. We've been holding it for nearly eighteen months now, Mr. Kent," she said proudly. "I hope you will be able to find time to come by and collect it today?"

"Uh yeah…yes, thank you." Clark shut his phone, still in a daze. _Nearly eighteen months._

Clark downed the rest of his orange juice and was pulling his jacket on just as he heard footsteps in the hallway. "Clark?" Martha rubbed her eyes tiredly. "What are you doing up so early?"

Then it hit him. Everything was…normal. Okay. Safe.

Jason.

Clark grabbed Martha, hugging her tightly. Surprised, she returned the embrace. "Sweetheart?" he felt her thin fingernails on the back of his head. "Hey…are you okay?"

"I'm okay." He let her go, smiling brilliantly. "I just…had a really interesting dream."

"I thought I heard you wake up from a dream last night, but I came in and you were sleeping." Martha went to the fridge and retrieved the pitcher of orange juice. "Are you going somewhere?"

"I just have a few errands to run."

"Well, be back for breakfast, I'm going to try making your father's maple pancakes."

Clark suppressed a grin. "Again?"

Martha gave him a self-exasperated nod. "Again." Clark let the grin free.

- - - - -

Clark picked up his package from the MUS folks and had opened the tiny box to find a nondescript key with a note reading, "Kansas Citizens Bank: 4034". He went to the bank, turned in his key and was led down to the safety deposit boxes. There were two items in the box: A CDR and an envelope.

Clark returned home at around quarter to nine to find Martha still attempting to make pancakes. She told him to go kill another half-hour while she wrestled with the whole "flick-of-the-wrist" bit Jonathan had always insisted was a key part of whisking the eggs just right.

Clark went to the loft, taking his laptop with him. He stuck the CDR in and loaded it on My Computer. Only one file on it: ToClark.WMV. He double-clicked.

After hearing the package had waited for him for eight months Clark had already known who was going to be on this video clip. Still, there was a pang of some unexplainable emotion when the video loaded and he saw the pixilated face of Jason, sitting in his office, a picture of Lana and Dylan barely visible to his right.

Jason grinned half-heartedly. "Hey, Clark. Feels funny, you know, uh…knowing you won't be seeing this for almost two years. Technically, I mean…yeah, I guess for you it's just a few minutes or whatever. Time-travel's a pain in the butt, isn't it." He cleared his throat, serious now. "Listen man I owe you…a lot. I owe you my life on several occasions, I know that now. I owe you thanks. I owe you an apology, probably, though…after all I've seen Lex do, an apology-" he clicked his tongue, "doesn't quite cut it, does it. Ahhh…" He shook his head, running a weary hand through his hair, making it stand up in the front. "I'm really sorry, Clark. For everything you went through, I am truly sorry. I guess by the time you get this, you'll know I'm going back, I'm gonna…gonna go to 1989 and stop myself from saving Lana or destroying those stones. Then I'll go back forward, and history'll take its course, I guess. Aaand I'll die when that meteor hits your house."

Clark sat back in his chair. The laptop vibrated warmly on his lap. Jason was nodding rhythmically. "I hope- I hope you're right. I hope this proves Genevieve wrong. Guess I get to be the hero for once, huh? Well, I just thought you should know I don't regret it. I mean, I haven't done it yet, but I won't regret it. The world needs you, Clark. You were one heck of a quarterback, man, I can't wait for you to start…fightin' bad guys." He laughed awkwardly. Clark smiled. "Look uh…I have one favor. That envelope I put with this disc? I'd like you to give it to Lana. It doesn't- explain what I did or what really happened to me, even though…I really wanted it to. But it does explain what happened to us. And she deserved to hear that a long time ago. I know she's probably still gonna be with Lex, and-" he set his jaw stubbornly. "Well. Like you said, she has to make her own decisions. Just make sure she gets that letter, kay?"

A silence ensued. Jason was killing time, trying to put off the inevitable. But he had run out of things to say. Finally, he leaned towards the camera, eyes seeming to look straight into Clark's. "You good?" Clark smiled again. Coach Teague reached for the on-off switch on the side of the camera, and nodded. "Alright. Go get 'um."

The screen went black.

- - - - -

"No, seriously! Haven't you noticed?"

"Jimmy Jimmy Jimmy-" Chloe pleaded.

"Just- just hear me out, Chloe, I mean it's everywhere, right? In shampoo, in perfume, in dryer sheets- don't you think it's kind of weird?"

"Faith Hill sharing a birthday with Stephen King is weird. Corporations using lavender extract to control minds is just ludicrous."

"It's at least worth checking out."

Chloe raised an eyebrow. "How did you come up with this, anyway?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean…since when does someone like Jimmy Olsen notice the nutrition facts on girl-care products?" Chloe's smile turned into a brilliant grin. "Oh, Jimmy…"

He looked miffed. "She paid me $50 to pitch it to you."

"Jimmy, you've got to stop letting Lois play you like that."

"Hey, I could use fifty bucks!" he said, grinning now. "Besides. My payment not pending upon your agreement to feature it in the snapshots column."

"I see…" Chloe linked her arms around his neck. "In that case, let's take that hard-earned cash and blow it on a nice restaurant."

Jimmy kissed her forehead. "Read my mind."

"Must be my lavender moisturizer." Her phone started playing Remy Zero, and she picked it up. "Hey Clark, wassup?"

"Chloe, hi." There was a pause implying some deeper meaning to that simple greeting that Chloe didn't understand. She heard him breathing slowly, relieved, on the other end. "Listen, uh- you busy for lunch?"

"I'm booked for dinner," she said giving Jimmy another resplendent smile, "but lunch I'm free."

"I have something I wanted to tell you about. It's…really, really weird."

"What, like-" she dropped her voice a little as Jimmy, still grinning, went to his desk. "Like Phantom Zoner weird?"

"Kind of…only weirder. Think you'd mind?"

"Are you kidding? You've got this intrepid reporter intrigued now. What time?"

"I have something to drop off at the Luthor Mansion." (Chloe noted there was, strangely, no tension in his voice) "How about twelve? I'll bring Chinese."

"Ooh, well mandarin chicken for me then."

"I was leaning more towards El Chifa."

Chloe's eyebrows shot up. "Oh, real Chinese. Taking the supersonic round-trip to Peru. Just how weird are we talking here?"

She could hear him smiling. "On the Wall of Weird scale?"

"Sure."

"It would have its own wall. See you at noon, Chloe."

* * *

_**The End**_


End file.
